Links
by RoweenaC
Summary: Gravely hurt!Dean in later chapters, protective/Sam. Set right after Jus in Bello and AU from here on. Lots of angst again.
1. Not An Everyday Occurence

Right. Um. I feel a little nervous now. This post contains the first story (chapter more like) I have ever written for the fanfic community. EVER. And I dunno why, but I feel a little insecure about it. It was the first thing I did in English fiction-wise. So, it might be a little ... ummmm... odd in places...

So, if you like to give it a try... have fun. And lemme know if you wish to know the rest of the story. I would post a chapter each day then. If it is crap... just say it and we will pretend it never existed. Heh.

**T****itle:** Links  
**Characters: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, OC  
**Genre:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**rating: **PG 13  
**chapter:** 1/15  
**warnings: **none  
**summary: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. Dean and Sam are headed as far away from Monument, Colorado as they can. But fate intervenes and both brothers have to fight to rescue themselves from their new opponent's clutches while a young woman is in mortal danger. hurt!Dean, very protective Sam in later chappies... hmmmm. constantly deteriorating Dean... yummy!

Thanks to **deansbabybird** for the encouragement back then to give writing a try. That changed my world completely!

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_**Links**_

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 01: (Not) An Everyday Occurrence_

The shadows crushed in on her, choking her. Nowhere to run, even if she could have. 'Not real, not happening… wake up damn it!!' Heart pounding she tried to breathe but could only gasp an insubstantial wisp of air into her constricted lungs. Deep growling laughter ringing in her ears she closed her eyes, the only part of her body she still possessed any control over. '_Give in… let me in…_' she heard an unearthly voice crooning at her. Every fibre in her body stiffened, mentally she tried to retreat, fly away but even that was futile. '_You're mine anyway, I can take you by force. However, this would be so much easier for you if you let me in willingly… so what is it going to be, honey?_'

Her head throbbed. She could feel her heart beating even faster. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, the impossible nightmare having become reality for her. Tears she dared not blink away as their sting was all that was keeping her alert.

'_I don't have all night. Got an appointment later tonight…'_ Puzzled at the whole irrationality of the situation she chuckled disbelievingly. That second of negligence cost her painfully. Her mind screamed at the violation as the presence of another crept closer to her agonized consciousness. Unable to move or even breath she felt herself being pushed aside, crammed in the farthest corner of her own mind. Incapable of anything she closed her mind's eyes and curled in on herself, trying to shield herself from the obnoxious being that had taken control over her.

Dean tapped on the steering wheel in sync with _Don't Look Back_. His eyes wandered over to his sleeping brother next to him. He had fallen asleep only seconds after they had climbed into the Impala after Ruby had told them how the siege at the sheriff's station had concluded so disastrously.

Below Sam's left eye a bruise had formed and he cradled his left wrist loosely with the other hand. His head leaning against the window, mouth slightly open and his eyelids twitching in reaction to the dream he had.

Smiling to himself, Dean considered pulling a trick on him but dismissed that idea bearing in mind the terrible ordeal that lay behind them. His lil' bro needed the blissful easing of tension only sleep could bring. The older hunter felt tired, too, and his left shoulder smarted from the gunshot, but Dean knew from experience that driving relaxed him nearly as well as sleeping. So he turned his attention back on the road ahead humming under his breath to the chorus. _I see beyond the road I'm drivin'_…

Almost half an hour later Dean squinted against the low sun. There was something…

In the middle of the road…

"Son of a…"

Slamming his foot down on the brake, steering against the fish-tailing, skidding car his grip on the wheel tightened.

Next to him Sam shot up. "Wha…"

With a deafening bang one of the protesting tyres blew, and even Dean's superb driving skills were unable to save them from smashing head-on into the nearest tree.

The older Winchester's head crashed excruciatingly into the wheel in front of him. The pain searing through his brain blinded him momentarily. His teeth grinding together, he forced his eyes open. His vision was blurred and he blinked to gain focus. He could feel a warm, wet trickle on his forehead. His shoulder sent hot, white waves of pain through his whole body.

Taking a deep breath to steady him, he turned to Sam. The younger man was slumped over the dashboard panel groaning softly.

"Sam? Sammy? You okay?"

He reached over to his sibling and patted him gently on the shoulder.

"Hey, you alright?" Big-Brother-Mode activated.

Slowly raising his head the younger man breathed through gritted teeth. "Uuh-huh." His right hand rose to the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the ache, mimicking the way it used to when he still had had his vision. A gesture so familiar to Dean. "Dude, ya fallen asleep or what? What happened there?"

Suddenly Dean remembered the reason for their predicament and quickly turned in his seat to gaze at the road behind them. He tried to focus as his sight blurred again. No, nothing there, but there had been something, hadn't there? He wouldn't have slammed on the brakes without reason. He thought of that moment… what actually had he seen? His brow furrowed he tried to remember. He'd seen a shape in the middle of the road. Like a person. A girl. Blonde short hair. Jeans and sweater. She had stood there, unmoving and looking in the direction of the approaching car. He'd seen her only seconds before he stood on the Impala's brake. The Impala!! "Jeez, nononono."

Agitated, he pushed himself from the driver's seat. The door opened fine, so no damage there. However, as he walked around to the front of his baby he nearly collapsed. He squatted down, patting and soothing his car. The whole front had been pushed in by the small birch tree that had stopped their wild ride. The radiator grill was nearly broken in two and the black hood showed several angry cracks. The fender dangled loosely on the right side. Taking in the horrible sight, Dean rose again. "Damn. DAMN!"

Meanwhile, Sam had disentangled himself from the car and stood, one hand in his pocket, the other snuggled to his belly, contemplating the state of the car and his brother. He knew perfectly well to keep his silence. One wrong word now and he'd be on the receiving end of some really nasty and wrathful remarks. Dean doted on that car and seeing it in pieces always hurt worse than a physical wound.

Dean breathed heavily. "She needs a tow…"

A scowl on his face, he reached into his leather jacket's pocket to retrieve his mobile phone.

While his brother made the necessary calls, Sam leaned against the trunk. His mind turned back to Monument, Colorado and the things that had happened there just … just yesterday?

"… ey, Sam. You with me? I'm talking to you!" He raised his head and looked into his older brother's green eyes darkened to hazel with anger and frustration.

"Huh? Sorry, man. What's up?"

"Quit brooding, geek-boy and get the hell off my car!" Quickly Sam stepped away from the Impala.

Dean relaxed a bit. Wincing when his left shoulder drooped an inch.

"They'll be here in 10 minutes. There's a town just few miles from here. We'll get a motel and then I'm gonna take care of my babe myself."

The key turned and once again a motel's door opened showing another dingy two bed room. The weary hunters, duffel bags on each of their shoulders, stepped in and took possession of their home for the approaching night. As usual Dean picked the bed close to the door and threw his bag onto the removed bed's patchy comforter. Sam walked over to the other one and slumped down, sighing deeply.

"Dean, why not let the mechanics at the garage take care of the car and get some rest ourselves? I mean," he stammered on, registering the unbelieving and annoyed scowl on his siblings face. "They seem capable enough and we could need some time off, your shoulder an all…"

"I'm fine. And time is the one thing I … we don't have." He finished awkwardly. Glancing up, Dean saw Sam's trademark puppy-dog-face and knew his resistance would be in vain. He realised with disgust that he was defeated again by Sam's powerful look.

Dean sat down on his bed and locked eyes with his brother. "So…what now? How about a few beers and a game of pool?"

Sam knew his brother would need some booze to wash down the events of the last days. "First let me look at that gash on your forehead. Can't have the ladies covered in fresh blood… and your shoulder might need a fresh bandage, too."

"Sure Sammy" he relented. No way Sam would back down on that. "And what about your wrist? I mean, you're a sasquatch an all, so none of the chicks will look at you anyhow, but…"

They grinned at each other as they argued who'd go to get a shower first.

Revitalised by the hot water and energised by his rare triumph over Sam at RPS, Dean exited the bathroom. He moved to his bed and sat, his spiky honey blond hair still sopping wet.

Sam had busied himself with the first aid kit they had salvaged from the Impala's trunk, along with a collection of their favourite weapons and their duffel bags, and now sat with an expression that was part concern and part mischief on his face as Dean submitted with a sigh to his tender ministrations.

Sam started out using the peroxide to clean the wound on his older sibling's forehead. Dean twitched as the astringent fluid touched his sore flesh. "Easy man!" He spat through grinding teeth. "Wuss!" Sam replied unperturbed. "Bitch!"

The cut was deep enough to require sutures and as Dean had passed on any pain killers he felt every single one of them, pulling and piercing at his tender skin. "Watch the face, Sammy! One fugly dude in the family 's enough!" He hissed.

Knowing full well, the threat was part of his brother's MO of pushing his pain away, Sam bit back his answer.

After covering his impressive handiwork with a gauze dressing, Sam motioned to Dean's gunshot wound. The bandage was soaked through from the shower and needed replacing. Sam was concerned to see that the wound had reopened judging from the bright red stains on both entry and exit site.

Frowning slightly, the younger Winchester set out to tear off the old bandages.

"Watch it, Dude!"

Dean seemed uncharacteristically touchy. Sam put that down to the accident they had. Clearly his older sibling's thoughts were on his beloved car.

As Sam gently cleaned away the blood from Dean's shoulder he realised that neither entry nor exit wound were healing as well as he would have liked. His brother's flesh was swollen and inflamed and from the way Dean twitched and sucked in his breath, his shoulder was still very sore. He finished the routine treatment regime and reached for the holy water glancing at Dean for permission as he unscrewed the top of the bottle.

Dean cocked his eyebrow and nodded.

The wounds started hissing and bubbling right away as Sam administered the holy water.

"Demonic bullets? What's next? The first demon in outer space?" Dean snarked as soon as the sizzling pain had subsided.

"Dunno…." Sam's voice trailed off as he concentrated on applying dressing to Dean's skin.

"OK enough, Sammy." Dean fidgeted as Sam taped down the gauze. "Hurry up and get in the freaking shower, haystack. I wanna go eat!"

"Lemme just make sure this is gonna stay put, Dean." Sam mumbled as he concentrated and carefully assessed the completed job. It would do and he could tell there was no way Dean was gonna sit still for anymore so snatching up his belongings he walked to the bathroom and closed the door.

Dean lay on the bed listening to the hiss of the water, deep in thought. 'And what the hell was the deal with the lead that had drilled this fine hole through his shoulder? Was it the same story as with the original colt?' He mused, thinking about the throbbing pain he had felt in his shoulder during the whole day. But what the hell, pain was a usual companion for the Winchesters. Dean had dealt with it in the only way he knew how and that was to push it to the back of his mind. He shrugged and reached over to his bag to pick a fresh black T-shirt pulling it over his head, as his shoulder burned in protest.

As soon as his brother re-entered the bedroom, Dean rose to check his little brother thoroughly. He bandaged up Sam's wrist, reassured that Sam's injuries were minor. As usual Dean had come of worse than his brother.

"Well, that's it. Now, let's check out the nightlife, eh? Let's go hustle some pool and get us some beers…"


	2. Seen and Foreseen

**A/N:** It's a really short chapter, sorry... I'll post chapter 03 tonite (in about 12 hours) so it won't be that much of an ordeal to wait!

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**__****Links**

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 02: Seen and Foreseen_

The idea of deep relaxing sleep appealed desperately to both hunters that night. Dean had consumed a lot of beer and tossed in a fair few whiskeys for good measure. Sam, too, had overindulged and was somewhat unsteady on his long, long legs. So, as soon as they got to their room, both men just crawled into their beds and fell asleep instantly.

****

Dean found that deep, comfortable, restful sleep eluded him however, and even the alcohol he had consumed could not lull him into restfulness. Something was off, he felt odd and ill at ease and his drowsy subconscious reached out towards an otherworldly feeling.

He tried to relax and open his inner eye to see what was disturbing him so and he could just make out a light shape far back against a dark background. As he focused on it, it moved closer floating, growing bigger and less indistinct.

He concentrated, his eyes beneath his long lashed closed lids moving rapidly, seeking clarity of the image before him. Blonde hair, jeans and a sweater, slender body. She beckoned to him. He let himself move closer as she approached, taking in every detail of her appearance. The short hair seemed ruffled. Her green eyes terrified and at the same time imploring, striking a defensive chord in him that was usually reserved for his kid brother. Switching to his protective mode, he tried to lean in even closer to comfort her. She opened her mouth and started talking but her words were indecipherable. Her hands moved in an agitated fashion, clutching at something that hung shining around her neck. He focused on her lips but couldn't make out what she was saying. Dean unconsciously tensed, straining to understand and finally….

"Hey, you gonna stay in bed all day?"

Dean shot up, wincing as the lingering throb in his sore shoulder protested against the sudden pressure.

"What the…?"

"Morning sunshine!" Sam grinned.

"Whoa… bathroom…" neglecting the renewed pain in his shoulder, Dean rushed to the small bathroom. Finally reaching the toilet bowl, he vomited.

His head throbbed menacingly once the heaving had subsided. He felt slightly nauseous. When he finally found the strength to rise, he turned to the sink and observed himself in the stained mirror. Dark circles shadowed his pale eyes, highlighting his exhaustion, and sweat beaded his forehead and upper lip.

He took a deep, shaky breath and splashed cool water in his weary face, disgusted by the way his hands shook.

A knock at the door made him turn around.

"Care for some coffee and donuts? There's a take-away down the street…"

Dean's stomach lurched at the thought of his normally favourite breakfast. "Just coffee…" he groaned listening to Sam's laughter as he headed out the door.

****

He shakily gathered clean jeans, pants and a nearly fresh Metallica-T and headed back to take a shower.

The hunter savoured the boiling-hot water running down his face and muscular chest. He looked down at the still unfamiliar sight of the tattoo. Bobby had drawn the pattern and the boys had immediately set out to the next tattoo artist, right after Sam had been possessed by Meg.

He smirked then, even though it made his head pound, thinking how much chicks really dug the new addition to his well-built, if scarred, body.

Feeling the water rinse away any residual nausea, he finally felt well enough to concentrate on the dream he had had. So, the same girl he'd seen in the road right before the crash. Did that mean she had been an apparition of some sort? Had she really been there yesterday? And then there was the matter of the weird dream. Surely, that hadn't been any garden-variety dream. Dean Winchester hardly ever dreamed, well not as far as he knew. Anyway it hadn't felt like a dream it felt...real. But Sammy was the ghost-whispering geek-boy, not him, no way! No need for that weirdo wussy crap. Not on top of it all. No time for that….

His thoughts trailed off.

****

Ten minutes later, hair still dripping onto his bare chest and back, Dean returned to the other room. He looked at the wet dressings and figured he better replace them or his shirt would get soaked. As he peeled off the one on his shoulder, it immediately started to bleed again. "Damn it… friggin' fed-demon, what rounds did ya use?" He mumbled to himself, glad his ever-hovering little brother wasn't anywhere near him.

Just as he applied the last bit of band-aid, the motel's door creaked open. Sam trudged in and waved with his goods. "Brought you some pie…" he smiled at his older sibling. "You really should eat something, bro. You don't look so good. Overindulged, huh?"

"Yeah, how come I got the hang-over yet you run around, grinning like the Cheshire cat?" "When did you read Alice in Wonderland?" Sam stopped in his tracks, slightly astounded. "Saw the movie…" Dean mumbled, annoyed at the slip, knowing Sam would use it to torment him later.

Sam put the food on the rickety table and sat down. Dean dropped down on the other chair and grabbed the hot, dark liquid inhaling its promising smell. He sipped at it and felt it trickle sizzling hot down his throat. He closed his eyes and sensed his animal spirits return. Even his stomach growled, yearning for some food. Glad his brother had brought some, he picked up the pie and wolfed it down. "Delicious…" he smacked at his fingers.

Dean looked up to the face of his incredibly tall brother, smiling broadly. Just as his eyes locked onto his brother's, Sam collapsed over the small table sending paper cups and bits of food in a shower everywhere. Sam's right hand flew to his eyes, kneading and massaging them, and he yielded to the images of the oncoming vision.

Dean pushed back his chair, jumping to his sibling's side and put one hand on Sam's back offering as much comfort as he could. 'A vision? Wasn't that supposed to be over?'

The psychic ability of his little brother had always made him uneasy. He had actually been relieved when they had stopped coming. Dean was puzzled. His shoulder screamed at the sudden action and he was sure the wounds had started oozing again. Pushing the pain to the back of his mind, he cocked his head to try and look into his brother's face.

Sam's features were contorted in agony as he caught glimpses of a little girl, smiling and beckoning someone who was out of his field of vision.

_Girl laughing. Girl in front of an old house. Girl waving happily. Now suddenly looking scared and screaming_.

The pictures followed in a swift flowing stream. Finally subsiding, leaving Sam with a dull throbbing behind his watering eyes.

Sam's breath hitched as he tried to shake the remnants of the premonition away.

"Dude, that wasn't supposed to happen anymore!" Dean wasn't able to shake the bit of anguish from his voice, while he helped his brother sit up again. Sounding a little reproachful, he went on. "What was that Sammy? You okay?"

Trying to steady his breath, Sam slowly opened his eyes and looked into Dean's worried yet still very pale face.

"Man, I dunno…" His speech was slightly slurred. "There was a girl … about 10. She waved at someone. Then she was standing in front of an old, weathered house. And then, she screamed…." His words trailed off.. Mopping at his sweaty forehead he made to stand up.

"Whoa, easy there, tiger." Dean intervened as his brother attempted to pull himself up. He had recognized how shaky Sam's movements had been. "Take a breath, then I'll help you to bed and you give that big head of yours some rest, 'kay?"

"Dean, stop fussing about…"

"I'm not fussing, I just don't wanna pick up your freaky tall ass from the floor. So, give it a minute. 'right?"

****

Once Sam was on his bed, he nodded off. Watching his younger sibling's uneasy sleep, Dean contemplated the events of the morning. So, Sam had his vision thing back up and running…But the yellowed-eyed bastard used to be the origin of it all…

Unable for once to contain them, a stream of painful memories clawed their way up from behind that thoroughly erected wall in Dean's mind.

_I've got big plans for you and all the children like you… Are you sure, that what you brought back is 100 percent pure Sam? ...Thanks to you Sam is back in rotation…._

Tasting bile in his throat, Dean grabbed a whiskey bottle from the mini-bar and downed it.


	3. A Psychic's Mind

**Title:** Links  
**C********hara****cters: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 3/15  
**W********arnings****: **none  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. Dean has vanished... Sam is frantic... What's left to wish for?

_**Links**_

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 03: A Psychic's Mind_

Sam's sleep wasn't restful. In fact, he felt worse than he had before he had allowed an obviously anxious Dean to usher him to the bed. Upsetting dreams merged into nightmares but each as indiscernible as the next. All they left behind was weariness and exhaustion, when Sam could eventually escape from them two hours later.

His clothes were soaked with sweat and the moisture plastered his long chocolate brown bangs to his still pale face. He had tossed and turned in his uneasy sleep tangling himself in his shabby blanket, so much so that it was now tied around him in a tight knot. As he lay there, eyes still shut, one hand behind his head at an awkward angle, the other loosely resting on his chest, he felt the sunlight caressing his face.

Climbing up the last steps from his dreams into reality, Sam became aware of all the small noises in the run-down motel room. The wind blew softly but steadily through the small gap between floorboards and door. A fly buzzed around the room, collided with the window and took up its circulation around the room once more. One of the taps in the bathroom seemed to be leaking. A monotonous _plink_ carried from it. But something was off. Wondering for a second why the peace of his surroundings made him feel queasy, the young Winchester ripped open his eyes.

"Dean?" he exclaimed, his voice cracking.

Clearing his throat, Sam fought off his blanket and winced as he tried to move his right arm. It was numb as he had been holding it in the awkward position behind his head. He threw off the twisted bedclothes from around his chest and jumped out of the bed. The tall man staggered a little as his head resumed pounding and clutched the bed-head to steady him. Pausing, he slowly glanced around the room seeking out his missing brother.

"Dean? Where the hell are you?" His voice echoed slightly in the empty room.

Dean's bed was untouched. Sam finally risked letting go of the bed-head to shuffle over to the bathroom and check it out. No Dean. He turned around looking for clues as to where his brother might have gone. There was a small whiskey bottle on the table, emptied. He raised his eyebrows at his brother's drinking habits. First the hangover, then the vomiting and then, right after breakfast, back to yesterday evening's liquid diet? It wasn't even noon! Shaking his head in disbelief, he walked to the door and opened it to look out at the empty parking lot.

No Dean there, either…

His dull mind eventually caught up with reality and he whirled around. The car! Surely his brother would have gone to see his most prized possession, the Impala, the only other thing that was close to being a family member. Dean only downed whiskey this early in a day if something was troubling him. The only other way to beat his feeling of trepidation at the sight of Sam having the unsettling psychic ability back would be to go for a ride to clear his mind. Deprived of the possibility to do that, Sam thought that Dean must have gone to the garage to check on his baby's state. Presumably he was driving the poor mechanics there mad. He smirked without noticing.

Unsure of what to do and how long Dean had actually been gone, Sam bit his bottom lip and forced himself to think for a moment. He decided that even if he knew exactly when and where Dean had gone, he might want to be alone.

Therefore, Sam decided he, too, could use a bit of quiet time and welcomed the silence and the privacy. Sam frowned a little as the ever-present knot in his stomach tightened. There were a number of things that needed to be taken care of and Sam knew his brother wouldn't like some of them. He glanced sideways at the laptop, hissing in a deep breath, and prayed he would find it today. A clue. A remedy. A spell. Anything at all. He made an effort to push away the troubling thoughts to prevent the looming panic from taking over.

First of all, he needed a nice long shower. That would clear his mind and rinse away the remnants of nausea. Maybe even soften the pounding headache a little. In the morning before he had gone to fetch some food, he had only sprinkled water in his face and then gotten dressed. His older brother hadn't registered it, but Sam had been up very early that day.

As he had done for the last few weeks, he used the early hours to check out every resource on the internet to come up with a solution for Dean's deal. So far to no avail, but that only encouraged him to look harder. He had become virtually obsessed with it. There had to be a way, he just hadn't found it! So that was one thing he would occupy himself with during Dean's absence.

The other thing was equally troubling. His premonition. Unbeknownst to Dean, Sam had felt his psychic ability return to him. At first, right after his – for want of a better word –_ resurrection_, there hadn't been the slightest hint of the supernatural skill whatsoever. Then it had started up again, like it had before, with recurring dreams. Since they had encountered Bela for the first time, during that weird hunt in Black Rock, when he accidentally had touched the godforsaken rabbit's foot, he had felt his power come back to him. That same night, he had had his first dream. The dream…. No! He shoved it to the back of his mind. He couldn't afford to become side-tracked.

Not now, not when there was only so little time left to prevent… _'Don't even think about that, Sam!'_ he ordered himself. He needed to be thinking straight, now, to focus on the task directly ahead.

'_At least one of us has to act logically.' _In his mind he could see his brother smirking. '_Whatcha go to that geek-school of yours for? You're the brains Sammy, I'm the muscle!'_

Sam smiled to himself. Yeah, he had to do the research. And while he was at it, he might just check on that little girl from his dream. See if any of the missing person's cases showed a picture of her.

So he headed for to the bathroom, picking up fresh clothes from his bag on the way.

****

Twenty minutes later, water still seeping out of his hair onto the fresh T-shirt, Sam stalked over to the small, rickety table littered with the remains of the interrupted breakfast and Dean's bottle of whiskey. The young hunter cleared away everything and seized his laptop. His plan was to check on the girl first and then see if any of the websites or contacts had brought up something new concerning his brother's fate.

Sam found what he was looking for after only 10 minutes, and he sat blinking at picture on the screen in horror. The photo showed a small girl of ten years. She had gone missing on the same day that the Winchesters, Bobby and Ellen had vainly attempted to stop Jake from accomplishing the demon's task. That day, the Devil's Gate had been opened and over a hundred demons had fled into the human world, possessing and torturing whoever they encountered on their wild flight from the underworld.

Sam's shoulders dropped a little as he deliberated about the possibilities the girl's disappearance implied.

'_Please don't let her be dead… she's just a girl.'_

However, at that same moment he remembered innocence was no guarantee of protection in the supernatural world. It hadn't shown pity for Ben or Mike, hell, it hadn't stopped at Dean and himself when they were kids, or his mother… or Jessica or ... There were so many innocent lives to protect…

'_I wonder how Dean does it. All this__saving people, hunting__things__, it gets to me… I can still see their faces in front of me, those we saved and especially those we lost…'_

The young Winchester rubbed at his eyes to regain focus, discreetly wiping away the tears welling up in his eyes. He swallowed hard, blinking away the image of his hero of a brother among those they hadn't been able to save.

He sighed deeply, his face resting in the palms of his hands, when he heard a knock on the door. Looking up, Sam quickly tried to clear away any evidence of his weakness, any residue of the salty liquid that had found its way from the corner of his eyes, trickling over his pale cheeks where it left tell-tale tracks.

Sam straightened up as he expected to hear his brother's snarky call to get his freaky, tall ass to the door and open it _ASAP _…

A slightly muffled, male voice sounded from the other side. "Erm, Mr. Brown? Mr. Brown, are you there?"

Utterly nonplussed, Sam rose from his chair, his hunter senses picking up, and went for the nearest weapon, a sawed-off. He hid it behind his back and quickly strode towards the door. As he reached for the door knob, he felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten as his right fist held the gun in a death-grip. With one swift movement Sam opened the door halfway to conceal the hand clutching the fire arm.

The man standing in front of the young Winchester was in his late forties, had a bald patch and wore the most faded jeans Sam had ever seen accompanied by a grease smeared, purple sweater. He smelled of stale beer and the cigar that he was chewing the end off, as he grinned up at the tall, weary-looking young man.

"You Mr. Brown?"

"Yeah. So what can I do for you?" Sam answered reluctantly. He really wanted to know who that man was and how the hell he had found him. They had used the alias only yesterday when they had filled in the registration form.  
"Ehem," the stranger cleared his throat, abashed at the lukewarm reception. "The name is Bill, I'm with the Dooley Bros."

As he looked into Sam's eyes he could see the tall man trying to process the information to no avail.

"The garage at the other end of Foxville," he added helpfully.

Apprehension lacing his voice, Sam quirked an eyebrow and nodded. "Yeah… So?"

"Well, brought yer fine piece of a car back ter ya. Took us all afternoon and today's morning. But we did it. 'S as good as new."

He waved his hand gesturing to the shiny, black classic car, which had completely escaped Sam's attention.

"Um, oh yeah." Lost for words, Sam scolded himself. '_I sound like a retard.'_ "Well, then. My brother hasn't shown at the garage, has he?"

"Nope." Greasy Bill's face screwed up in a surprised manner.

Sam's heart started to pound heavily against his chest. Panic was flooding his body in hot, rolling waves, Sam wearily let go of the gun and listened to it _thunk_ onto the worn out armchair next to the door.

The mechanic, indifferent to Sam's reaction, offered the car's keys and Sam grabbed them.

Impatiently, he paid the bill and offered a quick "Thanks, bye." to the grease-monkey. Eventually closing the door again, Sam furrowed his brow.

"Dean, where the hell are you!?"

_To Be Continued_


	4. OldFashioned Research

**Title:** Links  
**Characters: **Sam, Dean, Bobby, Lilith, OFC  
**Genre:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**Chapter:** 4/15  
**Warnings: **none  
**Summary: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. What has Dean been up to? How is his shoulder?

Thanks to **deansbabybird **for her great beta job back then! Love ya for it hun!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. But HELL how I wish I would!

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_Links_**

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 4: Old-Fashioned Research_

**Earlier that same day. **

Dean closed his eyes hoping to feel the soothing medicinal warmth of the mouthful of whiskey he had just swallowed. However, it wasn't his favorite Jack and the cheap liquor found his lingering sensitivity induced by the hangover and made his stomach churn nauseatingly. His face paled even more and he forced himself to breathe regularly to fight the urge to hurl that washed over him.

_'No way am I throwing up again. NO WAY.' _He groaned.

Still feeling a little queasy, the older hunter rose to his feet and decided he could use a bit of fresh air. His glance rested on his brother once more, unsure whether he could leave Sam alone. Sam jerked a little in his uneasy sleep as if he felt his protective brother's eyes on him and was trying to shake them off.

Dean considered the morning's events once again. Could he leave his li'l bro' behind after all that had happened? After the vision? And Sam didn't even know about Dean's awkward dream yet…

Another wave of dizziness made Dean opt for fresh air. Knees still wobbly, he fetched his jacket from the armchair next to the door and unconsciously pocketed his Colt 1911, too. Dean opened the door just enough to slip through the gap and then closed it again softly.

He blinked his eyes, long lashes sweeping away the last vestiges of sleep as he swept the parking lot, taking in the unusual absence of the shiny black classic muscle car. _'Yeah, why not check up on the Impala; see if my baby needs anything…'_ Dean took a deep, steadying breath and headed for the sidewalk.

*****

As he walked he dwelt on the events of the last few days, preoccupied but always alert to his surroundings.

_'A vision, huh, I'll be damned. That mean, that yellow eyed SOB 's back? No, couldn't be…could he?' _He shook his head keen to deny the possibility.

_'And my … uhm … dream?' _Freaked out with the idea of him having some kind of psychic ability, Dean shook his head even more vigorously.

_'Side effect of the crash. Or the siege and the lack of sleep. Yeah that's it. So, suck it up, Winchester! Enough to think about with the deal and….' _Ouch!

There, he had done it again. Let his guard down and his thoughts had meandered widely and eventually reached the place they weren't supposed to go to. Dean bit his bottom lip, raised his head, eyes shut tightly and fists clenched, and willed the unwanted matter behind that ever-growing wall in the back of his mind. But he could feel the fortress starting to disintegrate. It wouldn't take very much more and its defensive walls would start to crumble in on him.

The hunter pushed his hands deep into the leather jacket's pockets against a chill breeze. He winced a little as his shoulder jolted him, throbbing with the unexpected traction of muscles and sinews. His right hand played with the gun as he was absorbed in thought. Humming under his breath he strode along the shops and cafes, unaware of passers-by.

Dean didn't need to concentrate on the way; he had memorized it the day before, when he had grudgingly allowed his baby to be towed away. He had sat there in the small cabin of the truck, crammed between the driver's greasy blue-collar and Sam's overlong legs, itching to do the repairs himself and angry with himself for being an idiot and crashing the car in the first place. Robbed of any possibility to change the matter at hand he had grudgingly contented himself with the slowly passing scenery.

****

Striding along the shops and houses, Dean's dream and Sam's vision were playing heavily on the hunter's mind. As he walked he became more and more distracted. The recent events and their still elusive significance clouded his usual alertness. He didn't realize how much his concentration had lapsed though until he had almost walked head on into an advertising panel carelessly placed on the sidewalk. As it was, he caught it a glancing blow, knocking his knee and hip painfully. Annoyed and disgusted, Dean looked up; frowning both in pain and embarrassment at his clumsiness.

The panel showed a special announcement for the children's section of the local library. On it, happy kids buried their faces in numerous books. Dean had to smile, despite his annoyance, as it put him in mind of another small boy; this one with giraffe long legs, sitting over his school books every free minute of the day.

He turned his head to the entrance of an old brick building, rubbing self consciously at his bruised knee. He needed to put his mind at rest and understand these freaky dreams if he was going to protect Sam. The library offered possibilities._ 'Hm, I could do some research… the old fashioned way.' _He could see several lines of enquiry laid out before him to pursue. Lilith, his dream-girl, the deal – no, not that. Anyway, the mechanics would be faster without him butting in and fussing over his baby…

Mind made up; the hunter's feet led him up the stairs while his stiff knee protested at the additional stress. Dean pulled open the wide door and walked in. _'This must be the mother of all small-town libraries.'_ He wondered, how it was, that each town seemed to have the ubiquitous elderly female librarian sitting at a dark, wooden desk. They all had grey hair in buns, they all wore little round glasses, and they all were spinsters…. _'Weird,' _he thought. Why were none of them ever tall, leggy blond babes? Go figure! Research would be so much less of a chore if that were the case!

Dean put on his best mesmerizing smile and approached the desk. "Excuse me, ma'am."

The librarian looked up, clearly astounded by the intrusion in her normally very quiet day. "Oh, how can I be of help, young man?" she mirrored the handsome young customer's engaging smile.

"I just moved here," Dean explained. "Now, I'd like to have a look at the archives… just to fill in some gaps, familiarize myself with your wonderful town…"

The librarian nodded and held out one hand pointing at a door to his left. "This way, young man. You may stay as long as you like. We close at 6 pm. And do ask if you need any help, my dear."

Dean flashed his smile once more. "Thank you so much."

As he walked towards the indicated door, he felt the elderly woman's eyes never leaving his back.

****

An endless hour later, Dean had read countless articles and battled with infuriating search engines until he was ready to admit defeat and pack it in. But he was a man on a mission so he had hung in there and now he was not too patiently scrolling manually through each edition of the _Foxville_ _News_.

Rubbing at his watering eyes, he clicked the mouse again. This time the headline of last Saturday's issue caught his attention, he frowned.

"10-year-old Abducted –Still No Suspect – Chief of Police Asked to Resign".

Could that be the girl from Sammy's vision?

Intrigued, he blinked away his weariness and leaned in closer to read all about the case. The ongoing investigation by the local police had turned up nothing. _'Cos they don't know where to look that's why! Trying to do our job, but no clue about anything that's out there!' _He shook his head in exasperation. Dean pushed the print button and went on searching, but now he had two girls to worry about.

Dean's eyes started to droop after another hour of futile attempts to research on the blasted computer. He decided he could rest his head on his right arm for a while, not that he was going to sleep but just rest his tired eyes for a moment or two. Inevitably though, his consciousness drifted, and his lack of rest and weakness from throwing up saw his eyes closing as he succumbed to sleep. What the hell! He was in library for crying out loud! If a guy couldn't catch 40 winks there, where could he?

****

Dean was dreaming. He felt the presence before he could see her. She seemed even more agitated than this morning and beckoned to him vigorously; desperate to tell him something important. Dean focused and gathered his consciousness to try and catch her message. She held something glistening in her left hand as she waved agitatedly with her right.

He noted a change in her clothes. Dressed in a short sleeved top, now, he could see gashes and cuts on her arms. Her wrists showed bruises from where she seemed to have been bound. Her jeans were dappled with rusty brown stains. A large cut beneath her right eye marred her otherwise pretty features. Blood had streamed down her cheeks and a blow to her mouth had her upper lip swollen. A thin thread of red liquid ran down to her chin from the corner of her mouth.

She had the air of someone who was frightened that they were being followed and she looked behind her nervously as she beckoned to Dean. He could see that she was trying to say something, but no sound emerged and he struggled to try and understand her silent entreaty. He concentrated on her bloody lips, pushing aside his compassion for the tortured girl in front of him as he strove to understand her message to him.

_Help me … they're after me… so cold … black eyes … not human…_

The hunter tried to answer and found that sound eluded him too. So he attempted to mouth precisely what he needed to know from her.

_Who are you?_ … _Where are you?_ … _What happened?_ … _How many? …_

...but he couldn't finish his last question. She vanished in a bright flash of light and he was alone in the dark.

Dean jerked awake, his head throbbing as the sudden movement pulled at poorly healed tissue. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and he knew with an irritating certainty that someone less than friendly was looming behind him.

Oh Crap, his day was just about to get a whole lot worse…

_To Be Continued_


	5. Hurt Again

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 5/15  
**W********arnings****: **none  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

Please excuse any remaining odd phrases. Lingering mistakes are mine and mine alone. My betas are the best. Ta **d****eansbabybird****! **And a quick *squeee* to both her and **impaladreams**! Bring on May!

* * *

**_Links_**

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 5: Hurt Again_

Dean slipped one hand into his pocket and found the reassuring grip of cold metal as he caught the Colt in his sweating palm. His senses, honed by years of hunting, kicked in and he reacted instinctively ducking the blow aimed at him by his unseen attacker. A hand shriveled by time and dotted with age spots, crashed down right next to where his head was. The hunter whirled around in one swift movement, pushed his chair back into the librarian's lunging body as he dived behind the next table. The old woman seemed to be completely unperturbed by what usually would have been a painful and breathtaking assault.

"What the…?" Dean's eyes worked their way up to the face of his attacker and he was surprised to see that his assailant was the old librarian. He was shocked to see her and he hesitated and found himself tumbling into the next book shelf as his grasping hand failed to catch hold of the table. Granny's eyes were the familiar obsidian of the demon possessed and Dean fought the urge to laugh at the surreal situation as the thought of _Librarian from Hell_ crossed his mind.

The demon's leer widened as it saw the hunter hesitate and knew it's time to attack again was now. The aged meat suit didn't work as well as young ones did, but still its powers would enhance the old lady's capacities tenfold. It would certainly be more than an even match to the weary and hurt hunter struggling before it.

Dean found himself nearly caught off guard as the old lady charged. One hand raised high above her head; a letter opener gleaming in the flickering neon lights of the windowless room; she ran straight at him, the smirk never leaving her face. Her attack wrong footed him and he raised his hands to try and fend her off, but she barreled straight into him, driving him back into the shelves of books, pinning him with strength unnatural to an old woman.

He forcefully opened his eyes; disbelief etched into his handsome yet scarred features. "Who…? How the …?"

He could finish neither of the sentences as granny gouged her rheumatic fingers deep into the ragged flesh of his already oozing wound. Dean threw up his head against the wooden shelf and bit down the impending cry of agony stealing up his throat. He ground his teeth and concentrated, trying to steady his breathing. Admittedly, it was tougher than he had imagined it to try and breathe evenly while the Devil's Grandmother drove her fingers ever deeper into his flesh, only stopping when her finger tips reached his collarbone. Excruciating pain soared through his whole body. The tiny part of his brain not engaged in being in agony found itself musing on how weird it felt to have something grinding against bone and he found it perversely interesting that her bony fingers made the pain in his shoulder resonate through his whole skeleton. Even his teeth pulsed to the rhythm of the agonizing grinding of his shoulder.

Eventually, Dean found enough breath to hiss "What... the hell… you want…?"

"Oh, nothing, sweetie," she snarled back at him, as she kept up her merciless pressure on his shoulder.

"Just holding you here and enjoying myself. Hunters are such fun to play with. All this resilience and fight in them. You are no different, are you honey?" she crooned at him in a mock-grandmother voice.

"I wonder," she went on. "What a dashing young man like you is doing in a small-town library instead of a bar…?" She looked at him questioningly.

"None … of … your … god damn … business, Granny!" he challenged her, hissing between his teeth.

At that she raised an eyebrow and intensified the pressure on his now freely bleeding wound and Dean had to put all his strength into staying conscious rather than passing out. "Tell me, what you and your brother are after, Sonny! What is your job here? Don't you have enough on your plate with your deal coming due in a few weeks, Dean Winchester?"

He hardly heard the last sentence at all. She knew about Sammy. Knew, perhaps, exactly where he was. Sammy. This one thought was enough to mobilize every last ounce of strength he possessed. He raised his leg and snaked it around her ankle whilst at the same time pushing back against her upper body with all his remaining strength. The demon possessed librarian was forced to release him or fall over onto her ass and she broke from him, hissing in anger. Surprised by the amount of fight in the hunter she launched across the room to regroup and collect her strength.

Dean pursued her, desperate to know if she had done anything to Sam. Disgust roaring inside him that he had been so foolish as to leave his most important charge unprotected. Anger welled up inside him and he closed his right hand around the wrinkled, yellowish skin of her neck.

"Whatcha do to my brother?" he bellowed menacingly. "If you so much as touched him, I'll hunt you down and kill you, you freakin' demon son of a bitch!" he snarled at the possessed old lady.

Meanwhile Dean's left hand hung loosely at his side, useless to him in the immediate fight against this demon but the agony in his shoulder pushed back into his subconscious so he could focus on the task in hand. He had to try and concentrate!

Suddenly he caught movement on the periphery of his vision and realized that the creature was fumbling with the drawer of the desk she was pinned against. Ignoring the pain radiating up his injured left arm he stretched it forward and tried to grip the arthritic wrist and pull it from whatever it sought within the drawer. But his movement was dulled by the pain in his shoulder and the demon was able to wriggle from his weakened grasp and slam the drawer agonizingly on his trapped hand. He heard his metacarpal bones shatter but shock kept the first wave of pain at bay, however it was enough to loosen the grip on the old hag's neck and she twisted from his grasp and stepped away from him. Feeling the onset of pain beyond endurance, he closed his watering eyes and tried to blink away the salty liquid. He gasped for air. Exhaustion swept over him like a huge tidal wave.

"Sorry, Sonny, can't have you sending me back to hell, can I? Have a job to do…" and with these words she turned on her heels and ran as if she were an Olympic athlete winning the 100-meter dash.

It took Dean five long minutes to steady his breathing sufficiently to have the courage to attempt to extricate his shattered hand from the drawer. The pain was intense and he very nearly succumbed to the nauseating sensation. He sank to the floor; his good hand cradling his ruined left and leaned his head against one leg of the desk facing the now closed door. While he tried to stay focused, his breathing was erratic and he could see darkness at the edges of his rapidly tunneling vision. No way would he be able to walk back to the motel. He needed his bro and needed to know Sammy was a-okay. The mobile. Had he picked it up when he left the motel? He didn't remember…

Preparing himself for the impending onslaught of agony, he put his left hand softly down to rest on his thigh. He hissed out air between his teeth as the slow, careful movement sent sparks of renewed pain through his arm, into his sore shoulder and up into his brain. He closed his pale eyes and again tried to blink away the tears that welled there.

Eventually, he found enough strength to search for his phone. Not the right inside pocket. No, not the jeans' pockets either. "Damned Winchester luck!" he cursed through clenched teeth. The phone must be in his left inside pocket. He resumed his search finding his jacket plastered against his chest where his warm blood was oozing from his seeping shoulder wound.

Sighing deeply, he fumbled with the wet leather and peeled it away from his chest ever so slowly. He let out his breath audibly, recognizing just then that he had been holding it in. His fingers foraged for the pocket and finally he felt the seamed opening on the inside of the leather jacket. He inserted one finger after the other, slowly, trying to minimize his pain, as he rummaged clumsily in the blood soaked pocket. He struggled with a wave of nausea, smelling the metallic scent of his spilled blood in the air, and pushed deeper into the sewn-in opening. Finally, the weary hunter's fingers clutched the cell and he withdrew his trembling fist, the prize in his bloodied hand. He dropped his hand to his other thigh. His sweat beaded face paler than ever before, and took a few soothing gasps of air. He swallowed down the rising bile in the back of his throat and cleared his vocal chords, _'Don't wanna freak baby brother.'_

Dean hit the speed dial button and waited long seconds until the voice of his younger sibling answered the ringing phone.

"Dean, where are you? Are you okay? Man, I was looking for you and then…?"

"Shut up, Sammeee," his voice slurred with relief and pain.

He took another steadying breath before he went on. "Need...your help, bro!" Stars danced in front of his eyes, _state of shock_, his brain commented, matter-of-factly.

"Where are you? Hell, Dean what happened? You don't sound so good, man?"

Dean imagined the younger man bouncing up and down on his feet, running one hand through his brown bangs. He allowed himself a small smile before he went on.

"I'm at the library, archives."

He couldn't go on. His last resources depleted, he ended the call, let his hand fall back down to his thigh and yielded to the oncoming unconsciousness, welcoming its painless oblivion.

_To Be Continued_


	6. Rescue

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 6/15  
**W********arnings****: **none  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

* * *

**_Links_**

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 6: Rescue_

Sam switched the cell off and looked at it for a moment, contemplating. '_Why didn't I think of the phone?_' He shook his head disbelievingly and straightened up. His brother hadn't sounded salubriously to be firing on all cylinders, in fact he had heard the slur in Dean's voice and that monosyllabic way of speaking never bode well. Dean was in trouble, possibly hurt and probably in dire need of Sam's help. Of course, the older hunter hadn't been clear on the matter but Sam knew perfectly well that his brother would never be specific about his own pain or needs. That just wasn't his way, as Dean always put Sam's needs before his own. It would be only appropriate to assume that Dean hadn't wanted to worry Sam.

He jumped into action snatching up the car keys as he murmured a quick prayer of thanks to the Heavens for the exact timing of the Impala's return. Then it just remained to grab the duffel containing their weapons and holy water, not forgetting the vital first aid kit that he might need judging by the sound of Dean's voice and he was out the door.

Banging the door shut behind him, Sam strode over to the black classic car in two large steps, he threw the bag on the passenger's seat and dropped down behind the wheel. He fumbled with the keys for a few seconds as worry for his brother took its toll on the long fingers and shook them vigorously anxious to get to Dean. Eventually, the engine roared soothingly and he steered the car on the road.

As per usual, Sam had done a survey of the town's set-up and he knew where the library was. He tried not to rush too much, a police car stopping him now, might well be Dean's undoing…. He made a conscious effort to drive as per the manual as the last thing he needed was the cops pulling him over when he had to get to Dean.

He kept to the speed limit, watched out for traffic lights and stop signs, going at an almost unbearable snail pace, whilst all the time biting down on his bottom lip to hold back from cursing. Sweat streamed down his pale face and sticking already soppy brown strands of hair to his skin, and his hazel eyes lit up with relief when he saw the old brick building. Sam took the time to park the Impala safely away from any towing zone, snatched up the duffel bag and closed the door with a loud bang. Unconsciously, he ducked his head as if he expected a tell-off coming from his brother's deep, angry voice.

Sam leaped up the stairs taking two at a time and tore open the front door. He scanned the foyer and immediately noticed the empty information desk. Frowning, he continued looking around, searching for a sign post to point him to the archives. Finally, his nervous hazel eyes locked on the door leading to the sought-after section. He was starting to feel really panicky about Dean's well-being. He practically tore from the entrance hall and ripped the door open, earning a remonstrative groan from its antique hinges. His long legs running down the steep steps leading towards the cellar, he felt his heart pumping in fearful anticipation. He, eventually, reached the door separating him from whatever lay beyond, Dean had to be in there given that he was nowhere else to be found. Sam took a moment to concentrate and steel himself. It wouldn't do Dean any good to see Sam worried and fearful on his account. He would switch to big brother mode right away and neglect his own welfare. Sam tried to steady his breathing and to regain control over his shaking, sweaty hands. He had to be strong for Dean's sake…

In one swift movement he pushed down the handle, the door swung silently inwards and Sam's heart beat quickened again.

****

The younger man felt a lump form in his throat as he assessed the horrendous state Dean was in.

The older Winchester sat slumped back leaning against one of the legs of the desk, directly across from the door. Clearly, he was unconscious, his chin lolling against his shoulder, nodding to the slow rise and fall of his chest. Sam's eyes immediately focused on Dean's swollen and reddened hand. A feeling of nausea washed over Sam as he took in the weird angle at which Dean's hand hung.

'_Broken_' Sam logically assessed and he registered the strangely detached way his mind processed the view while his heart screamed out in compassion and love for his tortured brother.

The younger man's eyes moved up along that same arm and paused at the bloody ragged wound that had been a clean round hole, though unhealed, just this morning. Sam took in the amount of blood staining the front of the old leather jacket and closed his eyes to push away the thought of the cruelty that must have been exercised to widen the small shot into the gouge that had spewed out that much crimson liquid.

Dean's face was as pale as the wall behind him only highlighted by the dark shadows around his long lashed, emerald eyes and the sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead. It twinkled in the neon light like small jewels strewn on white linen. There was a certain beauty about the broken form of the man before him, and Sam felt his heart burst with pity and grief. '_Why 's it always him?_' he thought regretfully, blinking away the useless and unwanted tears in his dark, hazel eyes.

Sam dropped the bag to the floor and jumped into action. He touched Dean softly on his uninjured hand trying gently to rouse him without increasing his pain. The younger hunter watched as his brother's eyes rolled beneath the lids and knew Dean was fighting his way to the surface.

"Dean!" Keeping one hand in comforting contact with his gently stirring brother, Sam reached with his other to the duffel and rummaged until he produced the holy water and some dressings.

"DEAN, wake up, man!" Anxiety lent Sam's voice an edge as he focused on the dark stains at the shoulder and chest of Dean's battered leather jacket. _Just how much blood had Dean lost?_

Dean's head jerked up. "Wha…" he groaned as the pain collapsed in on him and buried every coherent thought beneath it. He sucked in his breath audibly as the sudden head-movement tore at the ugly crust of dried blood covering the mangled shoulder.

"Easy. I'm here. Don't move, Dean. Lemme just check that shoulder and your hand." Sam ordered. And for once in his live the injured hunter obeyed, incapable of any resistance. Dean fought to keep his jade eyes open hoping the air would dry the treacherous tears that welled up there. '_No reason to freak Sammy out even more_!'

The older Winchester gathered his remaining strength and snarked "Yessir!" grinning despite of the exhaustion and panic dominating his feelings.

At that, Sam looked up and smiled, relief showing on his strained features. He understood perfectly well, that his brother had mustered all his power for that reply and he appreciated Dean's attempt to ease the burden of guilt Sam felt for not checking on his sibling's whereabouts earlier.

After applying provisional dressings to the shoulder, Sam moved on to the hand. He searched the room looking for possible makeshift splints. Eventually, he found an old ruler and in the absence of anything better, settled for that. As he cautiously lifted the crushed hand, Dean winced unable to stifle his gasp and sucked in another breath. Sam froze and whispered "Sorry, bro…"

Dean shook his head, eyes closed firmly, and muttered between gritted teeth "Get a move on, wanna get outta here!"

The younger hunter set out to splint the broken bones, all the while keeping his eyes resolutely on Dean's injured hand, knowing that if he dwelt on his brother's considerable discomfort his resolve might fail. He heard his brother hum under his breath – _Metallica's Enter Sandman_ -, Dean's way of dealing with the pain he was forced to endure by Sam's necessary ministrations.

Finally, Sam hunkered down and touched his brother's good shoulder cautiously.

"Dean?" he addressed Dean softly. "You ready?"

"Huh? Yeah, let's get the hell outta Dodge…" and he got ready to push himself up.

After rising with an effort, the shorter hunter supported by the taller, both man stumbled towards the door and the steep stairs beyond.

The stairs proved to be strenuous to the brothers, to Dean as he was weak and to Sam, who had to heave them both, weighed down by the additional load of the bulky duffel bag. Eventually, breathing hard they stood in the entrance hall. Sam stopped and let his brother lean against the cool stone surface, while they tried to relax. Dean sagged a little downwards and his knees shook from the strain to hold himself upright.

Still panting, he looked at his little brother. "How're we gonna get to the motel?"

"The car's parked outside. They brought it back when you…"

"When I had a nice chat with that friggin' demon, yeah."

Dean couldn't prevent himself from flinching at the memory of the demonic librarian maiming his shoulder. However, he rolled out his trade mark smirk and pushed himself off the wall and immediately staggered. Sam rushed to support him and earned a disgruntled look from his older brother. Sam felt relieved by the familiar, characteristic attitude even more than he had been when he had noticed the irony in his brother's last remark.

Tottering every few steps, they made it through the door, out on the sidewalk and to the car waiting for them in the parking lot. Dean promptly aimed for the passenger's side and Sam followed the unvoiced request. As soon as the battered man made contact with the worn but smooth leather of the upholstery, he slid down a little to position his head on the backrest. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Sam rounded the car and moved behind the wheel, started the car and shot a look around at the library. _What exactly had happened here?_ _A demon?_ The tall hunter pondered his brother's short comments on the previous events in the archive section.

Lost in thought, he steered the Impala back to their motel.

_To Be Continued_


	7. Weaknesses and Whereabouts

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 7/15  
**W********arnings****: **none  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N I:** The formatting in this story is deliberate! I hope let's me do it like it needs to be done.... And damn it doesn't- not completely... Dean's answers should have been on the left side, the girl's on the right one. I will change that. The girl will be on the left side and Dean will be in the middle... Hope that helps.

**A/N II:** OK... I kinda get a kick outta posting this back to back. Very new and intriguing experience... This chapter sorta is the still before the storm... After this one there'lll be no rest ... for the wicked (sorry hadda go there) or the Winchesters... A lot of angst and sick/hurt!Dean from here on...

**A/N III:** Thanks for all those nice reviews and for putting me to your fav-lists... very much appreciated.

* * *

**_Links_**

_by__RoweenaC_

_Chapter 7: Weaknesses and Whereabouts_

The Impala slid smoothly to a halt in front of the run down motel's door. Sam switched off the ignition and turned his head to his silent brother, wondering whether Dean was merely sleeping or once again unconscious. A muscle twitched on the injured man's jaw, intensifying the haunted and brutalised expression on his face. Sam observed the pallor of the skin and the dark shadows beneath Dean's eyes. Sweat beaded his forehead and his chest rose and fell irregularly. Pity filled Sam's hazel eyes and he pressed his lips together in anger silently cursing the aggressor who had so tormented his heroic, brave brother and had left this battered shell of a man. His fists clenched unconsciously as he swore inaudibly he would make the creature suffer beyond imagination. Taking a few breaths to steady himself, Sam decided to wake his sibling regretting that his actions would return Dean to the obvious agony that his broken body would afford him. He reached one hand gently over to his brother's thigh, touching it ever so softly.

"Hey, Dean?" he whispered in a soothing voice.

Sam watched as Dean's eyelids began to flutter and knew his brother had been asleep, which was in a way a relief to the worried young man. _'Not unconscious. So, might not be as bad as it looks.'_ His eyes shifted once again to the pale face. '_But still. Something 's off. Can't put my finger on it.' _

"Dean? Wake up." This time he let his voice take on a slightly stronger tone as he knew his brother was fighting the remnants of a sleep brought on and deepened by exhaustion. Dean's pale green eyes flew open, still unfocused, blinking away the blurry mist in front of him. However, he shut them immediately as his injuries flared to life coursing agony through his body. He tried to even his breathing; to allow him to take control of his twitching, over-strained muscles as the tremors ripped at his mangled shoulder. But the wounds were too new and raw and his pain caused adrenaline fuelled tremors to jar his ruined hand. He couldn't help but hiss as the flares of hot white pain assaulted his body. Eventually, he felt steady enough to open his eyes once more.

"We there?" he mumbled still barely able to control the trembling. He turned his head to look at the door of their rented room but had to stop halfway as the movement tore at the ragged edges of the raw flesh on his shoulder. He closed his eyes briefly and pushed away the sickening memory of bony fingers scratching against his collarbone.

Sam had been watching every move his brother had made and he didn't miss his laborious efforts to mask his pain. He decided out of experience to ignore the obvious agony his brother was in and thus, enable Dean to cope with his weakness.

"Yep. Come on, get a move on. That shoulder's gonna need stitching and your hand needs a proper splint." Sam could hear the strain in his own voice and frowned a little, annoyed with himself. He opened the Impala's door, hinges creaking, and hoisted himself from the driver's seat.

"C'mon. Lemme help you." Sam offered as he opened the passenger side's door carefully, after he had checked that Dean wasn't leaning against it. He proffered his left arm to his older brother for support. Dean started, then grudgingly accepted the offer leaning heavily against Sam's tall frame as they slowly advanced to the room's door. Dean's knees wobbled with every step and his head started spinning._ 'Blood loss, great, just peachy!' _he commented silently as he closed his eyes against the rising nausea and let Sam for once take the lead.

Sam fumbled with the keys, while his brother's heavy, muscular body weighed and wobbled against his left side. He bit down a curse and, finally, opened the lock, sweat beading his upper lip. "Okay, then let's get you to bed, Dean."

"NO!" Dean protested with unexpected force and nodded his chin to the rickety table with the two chairs. "Not the bed. Chair."

Sam rose an eyebrow at the request, but relented, knowing how much Dean despised being mother-henned. He led his battered sibling to the closest of the chipped metal framed chair's and helped him settle down. Dean gasped at the effort of sitting down and closed his red rimmed, pale eyes again, fighting another wave of unconsciousness.

Sam took the opportunity to clear away his laptop and gather up the first aid equipment still standing on the bedside table next to Dean's bed. Their supplies nearly depleted, he rummaged around and finally yanked out some gauze, compresses, band aid and the needles and threads. He shook the flask containing the holy water knowing that there couldn't be much left and the tiny drop remaining burbled in the flask Sam made a mental note to refill it later and headed back to his brother, laden with the medical paraphernalia.

Dean pouted at the sight, but steeled himself for the adverse and very likely excruciating procedure. Sam smiled at that and nodded his head encouragingly. "Just this and then you can sleep."

"Right."

Sam helped Dean peel off the leather jacket that stuck to his chest and shoulder, glued there by the congealed blood. Dean winced and his breath hitched audibly as he had to move his ruined arm to get it out of the jacket. Sam had thought about cutting it off the arm, but knowing his brother would never agree to that, he had contented himself with helping his brother now, trying not to notice the agony it cost the older man.

With a low growl, Dean painfully maneuvered his injured hand onto the table. He did, however, agree to Sam's suggestion of cutting the shirt off his arm because, after the jacket, he couldn't contemplate the repeated discomfort of another striptease. There had been a moment when the sleeve had gotten caught at the makeshift splint, which had sent renewed waves of nauseating pain through his arm making his had spin violently.

"Ready?"

Sam waited until his brother nodded his consent and set out for the shoulder first. He frowned at the ragged edges of the widened hole. That bitch was so gonna pay for this, demon or not. Sam picked up a compress and soaked it with the peroxide. He braced himself as if he was going to endure the painful treatment and gently swabbed at the congealed, rusty colored blood on the chest and around the shoulder. The closer he got to the raw, ragged gouge, the more distressed his sibling's breathing became. He tried not to look up into his brother's eyes. Dean didn't need to be worrying about the strain this procedure was causing his brother. Dean needed to take care about himself, and not about him now. Sam swallowed down the lump in his throat and covertly blinked away his unbidden tears, desperate not to lose his composure in front of his suffering brother.

Dean tried to disconnect himself from the constantly growing pain, to push it back. However, he seemed to lack the strength to do so. Slightly bemused, he started humming under his breath. No effect was he going to have to endure this whole freaking procedure without his patented pain blocking measures?_ 'Friggin' weird.' _In his whole life as a hunter he had never experienced this. Sure, there had been moments, when the agony had been too much and he had fainted. But this, this was different. It was painful, yeah, _you bet_! However, there had definitely been worse situations... Dean felt weak, bleary, unable to concentrate. He couldn't afford this lack of alertness, he needed to be awake and strong. His mind wandered off, yet, he still cringed at the ongoing suturing.

Sam found it difficult to stitch the large gap sufficiently. He had to tug at the ragged edges and wasn't surprised when the gouge began to bleed again. Pressing one hand down against the seeping crimson to staunch it, he quickened his suturing with his right hand, accepting the rather uglier result. He shot a glance at Dean's pallid face and was reassured to hear him humming softly, though his eyes remained tightly squeezed shut._ 'Good, he's coping.' _

With the last stitch, the bleeding ceased and Sam quickly fastened the dressings over the criss cross of inflamed sutures decorating his brother's muscular shoulder. Straightening up, he allowed himself a sigh of relief and set out to work on the crushed hand. He had found an old splint from one of their brief stays at a real hospital and now customized it to fit Dean's hand.

Unwrapping the improvised splint from the swollen limb proved to be a challenge to both men. Dean, jaw clenched, ground his teeth audibly and Sam felt sweat beads lining up in formation on his forehead.

The younger man worked fast, trying to shorten the ongoing torture, and re-wrapped the hand using the proper splint and finally applied the last bit of band aid.

****

"Dean? You with me?" Sam looked inquiringly into his brother's still to pale face.

"Uhm, y... yeah. Sssstill heeeere." Sam frowned at the monosyllabic, slurred speech, his anxiety increasing. He had hoped Dean's pain would be relieved by his ministrations but his brother's disorientation did not support that view.

"Wanna go .... bed." Dean's eyes fluttered open, but slid out of focus. He made to move and Sam hastened to help him rise and shuffle over to the bed. Dean allowed his brother to steer him in the right direction, content at the opportunity to finally succumb to sleep. _'Tired. So tired.' _

Dean lowered himself cautiously down on the bed and scooted towards the bed-head. Each small movement sent waves of pain and nausea through his body, renewing the tremors that had stilled during the suturing. Sam helped the weary hunter to lie down, took off his boots and pulled up the sheets around him. He furrowed one hand gently through the spiky, sweat-matted hair and was surprised at the heat emanating from his brother's skin. _'Fever? Not good.' _He hadn't noticed anything like it during the ministrations earlier. In fact, Dean's chest had been rather cold and damp.

Contemplating, he stood over his already sleeping brother. Something definitely was off.

****

Dean hovered in the peaceful darkness surrounding him. He felt light and at ease. He let himself float gently, lulling him into deep relaxation.

_Help me..._

_No, not now. Go away. _

He felt annoyed at the interruption and tried to push the unwelcome voice away.

_Please, I need your help._

Dean unwillingly turned towards the pleading whisper. And there she was. The girl. She was in a worse state than this morning. She had one hand pressed to her stomach, trying to stop a deep, cruel gash from bleeding. Her pallor rivaled his and her eyes were bloodshot. She wasn't standing this time. She seemed to be lying on a pallet. He wondered how it was, that he could see that. Intrigued he moved towards her, surprised he could actually walk.

_Please. Help..._

He nodded and answered, baffled at the change in this dream. Dean was able to hear and speak...

_Help you how? Who are you?_

Her face lightened up when she heard him and she straightened up a little. Eventually, Dean reached her bed and hunkered down beside her, looking inquiringly all his instincts switching him into protective mode. She swallowed hard and gasped at the ensuing pain in her stomach. Her eyes never left his face when she continued with her plea.

_My name is Amy. They hunted me. Brought me here. _

She struggled with each word, her voice hoarse, closed her eyes to regain enough strength to tell the stranger everything she had witnessed and endured during her captivity. When she opened her eyes again it was to be mesmerized by his gentle, emerald gaze. His right hand lay softly, reassuringly on her forehead, pity showed in his eyes. Amy intuitively understood that this man would help her. She had known the first time she had dreamed of him. He radiated strength with every fiber of his handsome body. Even though he himself bore the marks of a terrible fight. _'Oh, please let him be real. Let him come and save me.' _She blushed slightly at the oh so needy, unemancipated thoughts. Thoughts she would never have allowed herself before they ...She concentrated, scolding herself. Time was of the essence.

_Who brought you here?_

_Creatures. Eyes. Black eyes. _

_'Please don't think I'm crazy.'_ she pleaded silently. But as she looked into his kind eyes she knew he would understand and believe her. Amy winced at another stabbing sensation in her abdomen and wondered how much longer she would be able to get her information across.

_I'm Dean. Where are they holding you?_

His kind voice was laced with a need to know the essentials and apprehension at her answer. She looked up at him again and forced her tongue to work.

_Foxville._

He looked puzzled and took a moment to process the unexpected information.

_Foxville, Nebraska? Where exactly?_

_Don't. Know._

Her breath hitched and her eyelids started to flutter. Dean had to be quick find out all he needed to attempt to rescue her.

_There a window?_

She nodded almost unnoticeably.

_What can you see, when you look outside?_

_Lake. Small island. _

Amy felt her strength leave her. Her voice quivered audibly when she went on.

_She. Comes. Gotta. Go._

_Who? Who is coming? Someone else there with you?_

Dean thought for a moment and ventured on, not sure if he was making any sense as he asked following his hunter instinct.

_Is there a girl with you?_

Her eyes flew open, terror lacing them. She nodded.

_She. Comes._

_We'll get you and her out there, don't worry..._

_NO! Girl. One. Of. Them. Leader._

She convulsed as agony rushed through her. She had to tell him.

_Lilith_

_To Be Continued_


	8. Reverberations

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 8/15  
**W********arnings****: **none  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N I:**I am getting closer to the longer and angsty parts of this story. So, bear with me. Dean is getting worse by second... yummy.

**A/N II:** Again, sorry 'bout the dream scene formatting but it should have been different. ~Dean~ in the middle again and ~Amy~ to the left...

* * *

_**Links**_

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 08: Reverberations_

Wakefulness hit Dean in a rush and the sudden movement tugged painfully at his sutured shoulder. He couldn't stop himself gasping out a sigh as a wave of nausea rushed over him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing down the bile that stung at his throat.

Stirring in his shallow sleep, Sam moved his head towards Dean's bed and peeked from half opened hazel eyes at his injured brother.

"How you doing, Dean?" he mumbled drowsily. "Need a pill for the pain?"

Sam propped himself up on his elbows, one eyebrow raised in questioningly. Dean remained silent concentrating on his breathing and pushing the pain in his left arm and shoulder back into his subconscious. He felt dazed, which he put down to the injuries and the slowly fading dream.

"Dean? You with me?" The younger man pushed himself out of bed as he felt tendrils of panic wrapping around his heart.

Sam approached his brother cautiously, his concern that Dean would be irritated at his fussing him almost as worrying as the possible deterioration his brother might have experienced as Sam slept. He held out his right hand and softly put it down to rest on Dean's forehead. It felt clammy yet at the same time burning hot. So, he had a fever, great. Sam chewed on his lip, unsure how to proceed. His sibling would never agree to a doctor let alone a short stop at the hospital to get him sorted out. However, the older Winchester clearly needed medical attention...

"Dude!"

Sam winced at the unexpected force in the words and shot a glance at his annoyed brother looking up at him.

"You done feeling up the goods there, Sam? I know it's a devastatingly handsome face but if ya lonely, go check out _Casa Erotica_!"

Dean pushed his brother's overgrown hand away and shot him another irritated glance, eyes blazing with impatience and fever. "What?"

"Dean", Sam began quietly. "You need a doctor: you've got a fever and I'm not sure about the splint and your shoulder. We should get them x-rayed and you lost a lot of blood. We..."

"No way. End of discussion. I've had enough talking already in my friggin' dream." Dean stopped abruptly and sat up, surprised at his slip. He hadn't meant to say _that _aloud._ 'Freaking fever!'_

"What dream?" Sam jumped on that bit of unusual and unforeseen information. "I thought you never dream?" He tried to sound casual; at a brave attempt to conceal his feeling of foreboding. _'Oh god, he's already having hallucinations. I knew something was off.'_

"Nothing, just a stupid dream. You go get some coffee or we ordering?" Dean glanced at his towering brother. He feared his evasive maneuver wouldn't work judging by his brother's firmly set jaw. Sam had smelled a rat and he sure wouldn't let go now.

"Dean! Spill it!"

Sighing deeply he surrendered to Sam's trademark puppy-dog gaze and the adamant tone in his voice, demanding the truth.

"Just a dream, Sammy. No big thing."

Dean flinched at the plea in his own voice. He pulled himself together and went on, sticking to the bare facts. No way was he going to mention his feelings. '_No chick flick moments.'_

"There was this chick, she was pretty beat up an' all. She told me, she was abducted by demons. Being held some place around here. That's all."

He daren't meet his brother's gaze, afraid of the reaction to his uncharacteristic dreaming, and his evasive eyes fled to his bust up hand as he awaited Sam's reply.

"Uhm, she talked to you?" was all Sam could muster in response.

Dean flinched at the question as it clearly stated his brother's discomfort with the unfamiliarity of Dean being subject to a somewhat psychic experience and he nodded hesitantly. Hell, he didn't feel comfortable about it himself. If he had told Sam about Amy, he so wouldn't have done it by starting off with him having dreamed about her.

The dreams about the girl had been very confusing to his normally straight forward mind. Each of them had led to a disaster. The first ended up with the Impala hitting a tree. The second dream had had him puking his Jack into the toilet bowl. Then, in the library, he had been so dazed that he had missed the demon sneaking up on him. So, where was the fun in this? Was he going to collapse all over the place like Sammy from now on? _'So. Not. Going. To. Happen.' _

"She say who she was?"

"Her name's Amy..."

He hid his mounting discomfort at the whole situation in his continued exploration of his splinted hand as he answered. Dean had wanted to protect her, offer comfort, save her from her torture. He still wanted that. How was it that she had struck the same chord normally reserved for his brother in him? Looking back, he had felt close to her, almost as if he had known her for years... Emotions and thoughts sent his head spinning and he closed his tired eyes again, resting his weary head back against the soft cushion.

However, Sam didn't seem to be satisfied with the facts. "Have you had a dream like that before?"

_'Dude, you clearly are the psychic here!'_

Dean thought, recognizing that now was the time to come clean to prevent Sam from guessing he had lost his mind completely or worse. He continued in a low, embarrassed voice.

"Uhm, yeah, actually three before now. Only the first one really was kind of an ... apparition. Saw her in the road. That's what caused the crash."

Sam flopped down on his own bed, a look of wholly apparent disbelief on his worried face. Swallowing hard, the younger man fought for his countenance and was very aware of his suddenly very dry mouth. .

"You ... you sure they aren't just ... just dreams?" Sam inquired apprehensively, not daring to look at Dean, "I mean, you're running a fever..."

"So I'm nuts? That it? Or hallucinating?"

Dean's anger at Sam's suggestion was evident in his low growl. How could psychic-Sammy call him a freak? He propped himself up again, gasping at the pressure against his mangled shoulder, to get a clear view at his brother. A deep frown on his face and eyes blazing with reproach, he barked at him.

"Did I call you crazy when you collapsed with your first vision thing? And, man, that was _so_ not normal!"

"I didn't mean you're crazy, Dean. This is just so ... You don't normally..." Sam retorted obviously flustered and searched for the right words.

However, every attempt sounded just as feeble as the last. The worst part was that, deep down, a small part of him feared Dean - maybe - was going a bit crazy. So when Sam finally lifted his head and looked into his brother's eyes, bright with fever and snark, he chickened out and deflected Dean's anger with a question.

"What she, uhm ... you know, say exactly, ... the girl, I mean?"

Dean sighed inwardly, not sure whether to be relieved that his brother didn't harp on about fever induced dreams versus possible insanity or to be embarrassed at the now expected detailed description of his twilight zone dream conversation. How the hell should he tell Sam about her condition without seeming too deeply moved by her appearance and, therefore, sounding freakin' girly?

He closed his eyes to concentrate.

"She didn't say much. Couldn't, given her state. Told me she got abducted by demons. She's been hold up there ever since. They must have treated her badly. She had gashes and bruises everywhere. And an evil looking stab in her belly. Lost a lot o' blood., was very weak."

His breath hitched with the immense strain of throwing the words out as fast as possible. Feeling a little dizzy again –_ why was he so dizzy?_– he focused on steadying his breathing. This whole situation turned out to be even more strenuous than he had anticipated. His entire body screamed in exhaustion and he felt another panic attack rising inside. What was this dream-thing? Why did he of all people have to suffer it? This definitely wasn't his territory. He could fight with every weapon he laid his hands on, however this debilitating – for want of a better word – power turned him into a feeble excuse of a man. He had to be strong, a consummate hunter; had to protect his brother, that was his job, for crying out loud!

The demonic librarian had been right about one thing. He had enough on his plate with his deal coming due in a few weeks. Strength was of the essence; he couldn't afford this fragility, least of all now. Reprimanding himself, Dean tried to pull from this disconcerting train of thought that clearly ended up in complete self-pity. And that was a weakness of character he had never suffered from, despite all of his other flaws.

"Dean, you hear me?"

Sam's worried voice drifted through his foggy mind. Sam. He jerked his head returning his attention to his brother only to be punished by another wave of pain from his wounded shoulder and crushed hand. He felt disabled, failed by his own strong, reliable body and he felt his anger spiking along with his fever, welcoming the adrenaline rushing through his body as it numbed the pain and cleared his head.

"Yeah, right here..."

"So, maybe that girl knows something about the schoolgirl I had the vision about? She say anything about a little girl? Might be related..." Deep in thought, Sam ran a large hand through his untidy strands of brown hair, and ruffled them even more.

Realisation hit Dean like a bolt of lightning, white and hot. The fever and pain had almost driven a vital piece of the puzzle from his mind. He tipped his pale face to his brother, horror at his potential lapse lacing his words.

"Dammit, Sam, she did. The little girl is possessed. It's Lilith." he amended in a flat tone.

Sam's hazel eyes widened, his pallor matching Dean's and mirroring the emotional turmoil this new insight provoked in him.

They looked at each other, thunderstruck, as they struggled to process this new information.

The new leader of the demonic army was possessing an innocent little girl, who should be playing with her dolls, going to school and enjoying her childhood. Dean had to take his hat off to Lilith. A dead stroke of genius. How on earth were they going to be able to kill a little girl if push came to shove?

Dean's thoughts went back to the siege at Monument's sheriff's station and its aftermath. The TV had announced a gas explosion to be the reason for the deaths there. Had Agent Henricksen and the others fallen for the innocence of this little girl and therefore died whilst thinking the worst was behind them?

Guilt ate at Dean's heart. They shouldn't have left before being sure it was over and that those people were really safe...

Suddenly, Ruby's offer of the virgin sacrifice didn't sound as far-fetched and unbearable as it had at the time. His insides froze at the thought. Shivering, he flinched as the tremors tore at his wounds, cursing under his breath at his own perceived weakness.

"You okay, Dean?"

Sam shot a worried look at his brother, noting his tremor and soft gasps of pain. The fear for Dean's well-being rivaled the dread of the newly discovered information about their demonic nemesis.

"'M fine, Sammy."

But the strain in his voice belied his words. Consequently, Sam rose from his bed and strode over to Dean's bedside, protectiveness and sorrow written in his eyes again.

"No, you're not. You're running a fever and shivering." He stated matter-of-factly. "I'll take a shower, get some breakfast and you rest. And then, we're gonna decide, what to do next."

Dean looked at his tall brother and gave in, too weary to disagree.

****

While Sam was gone to get their breakfast, Dean got up, moving gingerly around the room to gather up his possessions and headed for the bathroom. He decided against a shower after considering the inevitable re-dressing of the wounds and instead splashed his face with cool water. Looking up in the mirror over the sink, he registered his pallor and the ever present dark rings around his weary, pale green eyes and frowned, disgusted at the frail look of his reflection.

He bared his chest, a slow and painful torture, and took in the scars, the bold new tattoo and the bandages. Pouting, he shook his head and continued with his morning ritual, all the while angry with himself and worrying over Amy, alone and in grave, possibly even mortal danger.

****

Dean had finished getting ready just as he heard the room's door bang shut. He had simply put on his button down shirt as the effort of getting a T-shirt over his head had proved too painful for his wounded shoulder and broken hand. His jeans had, finally, been buttoned up, which had taken him at least five minutes as he had to do it single-handedly. Dean heard his brother's yell of "Breakfast! Where are you?" and returned to the larger room, grinning broadly at his own success in dressing himself.

"Coffee!"

Dean accepted the proffered cup thankfully and inhaled the rejuvenating aroma rising from the black liquid. He sipped at the scalding drink and closed his eyes, long lashes resting on the darkened skin beneath them and relished the bitter trickle of the coffee down his throat.

Sam had brought sandwiches and some sweet pies along with the coffee and they sat down to eat. Neither of them said anything for the next few minutes, mouths full and minds clearly on the conversation shared earlier, unwilling to discuss their options just yet.

Dean found his appetite hadn't yet failed him, fever or not. He munched away happily and tried to control his musings at the same time. As he took his last bite of the fillet steak sandwich, Dean's vision blurred suddenly and he heard a faint whisper. He recognized the voice instantly.

_~Dean, please hurry. Help me!~_

Her tone was beseeching and he felt her terror as if it was his own. Dean's mouth went dry and he put the sandwich down, appetite lost all of a sudden, and swallowed hard at the last piece still in his throat resisting the slide down. His head spun with the urgency to protect her and the increasing fever.

Sam looked up at his brother. Dean's good hand had clasped the table for support and his eyes were shut tightly while his whole body trembled subtly.

"Dean? What is it? You feeling sick?"

He put down his own chicken salad sandwich and rose to rush to Dean's aide. He put one gentle hand on the shaking man's uninjured shoulder and squeezed it softly.

"Dean? "

The urgent tone in Sam's voice made Dean glance up at him.

"We gotta go! She needs us! There's no time..." his voice trailed off. He still fought against the nauseating sensation coursing his body.

"Dean, we don't even know where she is..."

Sam attempted to reason, however, his brother shook the comforting hand off his shoulder and rose abruptly from his chair, knees wobbly.

"I do. She's near a lake and it's gotta be some place remote. They are still looking for that Lilith-girl, so they can't risk her being seen."

"Near a lake? Now, how 'd ya know that? You haven't told me that before."

His brother scowled at him. "Dean, come on! Let's give this a thought! We need more information and you're sick. We just can't risk it! I know you wanna save her, but..."

"So, I'm supposed to believe ev'ry one of your freaky visions, but that _one _time I need you to trust me, you're all _'let's give this some thought_' and _'it's too risky'_."

Dean had straightened up to his full height and stepped closer to his baby brother menacingly, anger radiating from him. Sam took a step back, looking abashed. Dean was pissed. Massively pissed.

"Sam, I tell you, she needs us and she needs us _now_. I'm not gonna risk your life _or_ hers, for that matter. And I won't let Lilith take another innocent life..."

As he talked, he had snatched up the duffel bag containing their weaponry and now he was smoothing out the town's map.

Sam gaped at the strength the injured hunter still possessed, considering the terrible ordeal he had been through lately.

"Dean, let's say we go and try to rescue her. Think for a minute. How're we gonna fight Lilith, if she turns up? We still don't have the Colt. We're gonna end up not only losing Amy, hell, we could die, too! Even if you weren't sick, I'd say there's a pretty big chance for us to blow it."

"Since when did we stop trying to save people just because we could get ourselves killed, Sam? Hell, what's gotten into you? This is our job, remember?!"

"What's gotten into _me_? Dean, take a look at yourself! You can barely stand on your own two feet, let alone save another person. Your arm is useless and ..."

"You know what, I've had it, Sammy. Either you shut up and come with me, or I'm going on my own. Now, what's it gonna be?"

These last sentences were so out of character for the older Winchester that Sam staggered, mouth open, halfway in an answer. Since when did Dean deliberately leave Sam behind unprotected and go off on a hunt? He would have expected this behavior from their father, but Dean had always put Sam's safety before everything else, even an important hunt. Hating himself for worrying about his own well-being and feeling he wouldn't be able to talk his stubborn brother out of his plan, Sam yielded.

"Alright... alright, how're we gonna do it then?" He approached the table peeking over the right shoulder of his shorter brother to get a look at the map.

_To Be Continued_


	9. A Demon's Trap

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 9/15  
**W********arnings****: **none  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N I:** Again... formatting is deliberate!

**A/N II:** The time line in this and the following 2 chapters is a little hard to follow... My apologies for that in advance!

**A/N III:** Dream/Psychic connection scenes: ~Amy~ left; ~Dean~ in the center...

* * *

_**Links**_

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 09: A Demon's Trap_

She trembled as she felt the dream escaping from her, the comfort offered by the man, who had seemed so familiar and supportive, evaporated and left a void in her, even more painful that her real injuries, as it pulled at her heart and soul. She yearned for his soft touch and gentle, soothing voice. His attentive, compassionate eyes had shone with a strength she had so desperately lacked in the last days and he had somehow been able to give her a share of his strength.

Amy felt even more alone and desperate than before. How much more could she possibly take?

The thought made her cringe and she shuddered. The tremors shook her and amplified the agonising sensation in her lower abdomen. Her hand crept towards the soggy, warm spot there. She tried to press down on it to stop the bleeding and give Dean time to come to her aid. Dizziness set in and she didn't fight it this time.

"I know you're awake. Don't you want to play with me?"

Amy held her breath as shards of ice pierced her heart with fear at the return of Lilith's soft voice, she felt a jolt of adrenaline and worked with the energy it lent her to force down her nausea and pain. Slowly, she opened her eyes and squinted at the unfamiliar sunlight bathing the barn, dust danced fairy-like through the beams. There she stood, innocent smile on her sweet face, peering at the tortured, hurting woman on the worn out pallet.

A sigh rattled through the battered body of the young woman before she spoke.

"What... do... you... want?" She hated the weakness in her hoarse voice.

"Oh, does it hurt? I'm sorry... You know, I could help you? If you just did what I wanted..."

The mocking and at the same time so young voice drifted through the empty room. Amy watched the girl's smile turning into a terrifying leer, the sharp contrast between the outward appearance and the inner evil lessened by the snarl.

"NEVER."

She pressed her lips together against the agony the forcefully spoken word had evoked. Her eyes fluttered shut again and sweat beaded her temples.

"I told you, it would take the pain away and you might even survive..."

Lilith stepped closer and sat down on the floor next to the woman, cross-legged and tipped her head to watch Amy expectantly. An eerie caricature of a girl waiting for a fairy tale.

"You know, Amy. Your dreams... they are very _unusual_."

Amy's heart skipped several beats and she felt an icy lump form in the pit of her stomach and she yielded to the dawning unconsciousness, incapable of facing the possible implications of Lilith's words.

****

Sam shot a glance at his brother. Dean's attention was fixed on the map of the small town and its surroundings, desperately searching for the probable whereabouts of the agonised and imprisoned young woman. Silently, Sam pondered another attempt to reason with his stubborn brother but dismissed it almost instantly. This rescue mission seemed immensely important to Dean and Sam would never be able to dissuade his heroic brother from it.

However, Sam didn't miss the way his brother's hands shook when he pointed at some spot on the map or how he tried to lean casually on the table whilst concealing his weariness, or his inability to sit up straight without his shoulder rolling cold waves of pain through his body. Sam chewed on his lip worried sick that they were heading into a situation they didn't fully understand and might come to regret.

"There, that's it. The perfect place. I'd pick it, too. Empty, the lake and no neighbours."

Dean's right forefinger indicated an old farm at the opposite end of Foxville and a few miles out of town. It would take about 30 minutes to get there. The weary hunter panted, anticipation of the hunt and weakness challenging each other. Green eyes locked with evasive hazel and he held his younger brother's gaze for a few seconds.

"What, Sammy?"

"Dean, I dunno. I still don't think you're fit en..."

"Fit enough? I thought we'd settled that!"

Sam had immediately known he had chosen the wrong words and succeeded in pissing off his already suffering brother even more. The battered man would never back off and stay till his wounds were better, especially now after Sam's imprudent choice of words. Sam looked down and bit back his words. It wouldn't do to argue. Dean had made up his mind and Sam would go along, if only to keep a protective eye on him.

A sharp intake of breath made Sam raise his head again to check on his brother. Dean's good hand had come to rest over his eyes, his mouth was contorted in pain. It only took a few moments until Dean relaxed again and Sam had only half risen from his chair when his brother blinked his pale eyes to refocus while his hand fell limply down to his thigh.

"Gotta leave, NOW!"

****

She had reached out to the now familiar soul in the darkness, only brushing against it and put all her desperation in this soft touch. Amy felt her strength falter and let go, sinking back into her own body, bracing herself for the awaiting anguish and torture.

****

Dean pushed himself up supporting his weight on his good arm. His head spun and he felt cold sweat on his back, soaking his shirt. His soul resonated in time with hers once more, even though her touch had been fleeting. He had instantly known her desperation and he felt the reality of it bruise his heart. Fearing to risk his overwhelming compassion for her paralyse him, he sensed he had to act now. Otherwise, he just wouldn't be able to carry on once his own despair tore free from the fortress in his mind. He, then, wouldn't be able to save her or protect Sam any more. That couldn't happen.

He attempted to steady himself making a conscious effort to calm the emotional turmoil brought on by Amy's touch and searched for Sam's gaze when he was sure that the moisture in his own eyes had dried away.

Sam nodded and started to get the bag from its place under Dean's bed. He tried to staunch the ringing of the alarm bells in gut. _'This is so not gonna end well.' _Forebodings crept into his soul, a gnawing sensation. His instincts told him to take his brother and run. Hadn't Ruby said they should try and lie low? Lilith had it in for Sam. A wave of utter disgust swept over him at this self-pitying thought and he pushed it away, feeling embarrassed.

****

Amy bit down on her lip to hold back the cry building in her throat as she returned to her excruciating reality. Tired and torn, she stiffened and clenched her hands into fists, knuckles blanching her already pale skin. A sob escaped her and she heard the creature close to her snicker.

Amy didn't exactly know how long she had been hold up here. The first part had been a blur of memories as the unholy presence inside her body and mind had been in control. She cringed at the memory of the mental violation she had been subject to.

Then, suddenly she had been able to get away from the power inside her own body. She had seen the young stranger, Dean, driving a black car and had tried to speak out. The contact had been too brief and superficial to be successful. And when she had been thrown back into her body, the abhorrent thing coiling in her soul like venomous snake had left. It had been her body again. However, there was a downside to her regained liberty. Lilith and her minions had started torturing her both mentally and physically. Weak and desperate she had reached out for the one person she had made contact with before. It had been an exhausting, difficult effort to get through to Dean and the only thing that had kept her trying was that she somehow knew he would understand and help.

The attempts had cost her dearly. Every time she had returned from sleep Lilith had been waiting for her. The consequent torture had become more agonizing and brutal each time culminating in the slashing of her belly. The girl had stood by and watched, never showing any sign of remorse or concern. This lack of human emotions had convinced Amy that her captors were anything but human.

The realisation had come as a shock and had turned her world upside down, though she had adapted quickly to it. Had there been time to consider, this rapid adjustment to a world with monsters in it would have made her wonder. Being a science teacher at an elementary school Amy had never in her whole life believed in anything but the laws of physics and reason. Yet, now, she had been shown that evil - pure, tangible evil, not just a philosophical construct - was in fact reality. And she had been forced to accept this radical shift in belief so suddenly that the logical part of her mind wondered that it had not been driven to madness.

"When are they coming, Amy?"

The question interrupted her musings painfully and she felt her eyes drawn to Lilith.

"When?"

Amy's weary gaze found the cold yet so sweet eyes of the little girl standing next to her.

"What are you talking about?" _'Oh, god, please, nonono!'_

****

The door closed behind them with a loud bang and Dean hastened to the passenger's side of the Impala. He urgently needed to sit down, as his head was throbbing with the repercussions of the short contact with Amy. He sensed their time was running out, yet knew that he was too weak to be certain they had a chance. He was in constant danger of losing his battle with tenuous consciousness. How, on earth, would he be able to rescue Amy and keep his brother safe when his legs would barely support him? And even if he managed to keep from falling on his sorry ass, how was his one good arm gonna fare against superhuman demon strength? Hell, he wouldn't even be able to reload without Sam to help him... Crap, this _was_ a stupid idea!

His world spun and tilted, forcing him to grasp at the roof of the Impala for support, as sickening swirls of colour danced before his eyes. He took a few deep breaths and closed his weary eyes, allowing his head to hang down.

_'Can't let Sam see me like this. That'll freak him out and he'll drag me off to some damn hospital right away.' _

Although, the idea of a comfortable hospital bed, pretty nurses taking care of his wounded, sore body and mind, appealed to him for a second. He shook his head slightly to clear his head from this thought and lifted it to regain control over his emotions and the agony in his limp body.

_'No. this is my job.'_

Later maybe, he would allow Sam to fuss over him and even agree to a hospital. Now, there were more important things at stake than his own well-being.

Mustering his strength he opened the car's door and lowered himself into the black leather seat, wincing at the spikes of pain washing over him as he felt his mauled shoulder make contact with the back of the seat.

Sam made for the trunk, dumping the bags and slamming the lid. He shot a glance at his brother as he made his way hesitantly towards the passenger door. He was worried about Dean as the easy abdication of the driver's seat to Sam spoke volumes for the level of pain he was in.

_  
'Damn it, Dean. All this putting yourself last is gonna be the death of you someday.' _

He shuddered, kicking himself for the casual stupidity of that statement. Hadn't Dean sold his own soul to bring his brother back?

_'No, don't go there, Sam.'_

This was not the time to think about that. He had to stay focused. Dean needed him sober and thinking.

Sam climbed into the driver's side, folding his long body into the worn black leather, whilst casting an observant glance towards his brother. The distinct pallor of Dean's skin made Sam cringe inwardly, and his shaky, shallow breathing commanded Sam to halt this ridiculous rescue mission. However, the younger man knew he would never be able to stop his brother's most rudimentary instinct to save people. So with a tired sigh he started the car...

****

"Well, the dreams about Dean Winchester, of course."

Sarcasm dripped from Lilith's few words, and Amy was horrified by the dichotomy of their tone and the girl's innocent childlike appearance. A child's voice shouldn't be capable of sounding so cruel, so evil. She inhaled deeply seeking to steady herself.

"Now, when... when are they coming?"

"I dunno..."

"Don't you give me that crap!" Lilith paused briefly. "You've been talking to him! I don't know how, but you did! Tell the truth!"

All of a sudden, the girl sounded whining and demanding at the same time, it reminded her of some children she had taught.

_'Like some spoilt brat!'_

Yet this was no kindergarten argument over a favourite toy, this was a demon in all its glory and Amy bit her lip to hold back words that might antagonise her further.

"I've known for some time you had a connection to the hunter."

_'Hunter? What was she talking about now?'_

"I just don't know how that's possible. Asmodai never felt any psychic ability in you when he possessed you." Lilith's voice held wonder as she pondered the dilemma.

"You know, I've wanted to find those men very much. As soon as Asmodai discovered you had contact with the Winchesters, we decided to let you go. We were sure you would try again. And maybe lead them to us. And you did. Humans are so predictable, especially when they are in pain. It was so much easier this way. That interfering bitch Ruby gave them something to shield them from me. You were the perfect instrument. I actually have to thank you for bringing them here."

Lilith cackled sadistically, eyes never leaving her captive.

Amy paled as understanding caught up with her. She had led the men into a trap. How was she supposed to tell them? There wasn't enough strength in her and she was sure they were already on their way.

_'What have I done?' _

Despair and ruefulness tore at her tarnished soul and broke it into pieces. Finally, tears came and she couldn't stop them so instead she yielded to the soothing effect of the salty liquid soaking her skin. She felt herself floating towards oblivion, the distress and blood loss eventually taking their toll.

****

The Impala came to a halt. Sam switched off the ignition and looked inquiringly at his sibling.

"How're we gonna do this?"

"First, stake out the barn and the other buildings. Then, we check on the girl. If she's alone, we'll take her and run."

"What if she isn't alone. I mean, what if Lilith is there? We don't..."

"Yeah, we don't have the Colt any more. I know. Thanks for the newsflash! We'll figure something out."

Panting again slightly, Dean shut his mouth and made to open door, when another wave of nausea hit him.

_~Stay away! It's a trap! She knows!~ _

The words were faint, almost inconceivable, but unmistakably Amy's. Dean frowned.

~~~~~*~~~~~

_To Be Continued_

________________________________________________________________________________

**End note: **According to mythology, _Asmodai _is a demon king in Hell and supposedly Lilith's mate.


	10. Trapped

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 10/15  
**W********arnings****: **none  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N:** The time line in this and the following chapter is a little hard to follow... My apologies for that in advance!

**A/N II:** Dream/Psychic connection scenes: ~Amy~ left; ~Dean~ in the center...

* * *

**_Links_**

_by __RoweenaC_

_Chapter 10: Trapped_

**Outside, Impala 14:30h**

"We need a plan, Dean."

Sam's voice drifted through the mist fogging Dean's mind. His brother had left the car and had obviously walked around to the passenger side of the Impala, looking down at Dean, sorrow marring his soft features.

Looking up, eyes slightly out of focus, Dean confronted his brother and nodded, slowly.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Sam, she's here. Lilith's here."

He didn't know how to explain it to his baby brother, but there was no way Sam was going in with him, not when Lilith wanted Sam dead.

_'Over my dead body.'_

He chuckled sarcastically. The way his whole body felt, this was a very likely possibility. And without Sam at his side, how was he gonna get Amy out? Usually, Dean had a plan for every event, yet in his weakened state his hunter mind didn't seem to work properly.

"How d'ya know that? What is it, Dean? You alright?" _'Yeah, right. As if he had ever answered truthfully to this question. Way to go, Sam!'_

He chided himself, desperately thinking of a way around the hunt and its possible turn-out.

"No, I'm not, Sammy. I'm not alright."

The words came in a low, soft voice and Sam blinked, suppressing the urge to turn around to see if anybody else was around, who might have spoken them. The helplessness lacing those words crushed Sam's heart. This was definitely out of character behavior. Unsure, whether the fever had anything to do with the lapse, Sam stepped closer to his still sitting brother and raised his right arm to check Dean's forehead. Halfway through the motion, Dean pushed the hand gently out of the way. The pain in Dean's empty eyes, both physically and mentally, pricked Sam's own with salty tears. He had never seen Dean this broken.

_'Is this how you felt, when I was... was gone? Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, Dean.'_

"Sam. You stay in the car..." Dean's voice broke under the stress of regaining control.

"Wha... NO!"

"Zip it, Samantha! I won't have you in there when she's around. You heard Ruby! That Lilith bitch's gonna kill you! So _not_ gonna happen!"

Panting heavily at the effort, he rose from the leather seat and looked his brother firmly in the eye. He held his good hand out to the door's frame for support and straightened up to his full height, ignoring the protesting, stabbing screams coming from his shoulder. Though Dean was shorter than his towering brother, his no-nonsense demeanor lent him an air of determination that was enough to intimidate, injured or not. Sam shrank away from his elder sibling, dumbfounded at the apparently unlimited source of power inside the tormented man in front of him.

All the frailty gone from Dean, his green eyes sparkled with a deadly menace, normally reserved for their enemies.

"Got me?!" Dean spat out.

His mind reeling, Sam nodded.

"But what's your plan? You need backup or weapons or something... Dean, lemme at least help you with it!"

He pleaded, resorting to the only weapon he had left and hating himself for using it, he hoisted up his trademark puppy-dog face. And sure enough, Dean's determination wavered slightly. He continued speaking in a softer yet immovable tone.

"We're gonna stake out each building and see how many of 'em there are. Then, YOU get back to the car and I'll get Amy out. We'll need something to lure Lilith out and distract her." His face was screwed up as he tried to work out a suitable diversion.

"Well, uhm, she wants me... I could, sort of, be ... the bait?"

Sam avoided Dean's exasperated look.

"Bear with me for one moment, Dean. I can lure her away from you. It will be difficult enough to get Amy out with all the other demonic bastards crowding the place. She's badly injured and you..."_ 'And you don't look too hot either, bro.'_ "Well, you might have to carry her out. So, no way, you can shoot your way out. It's the only solution."

Dean contemplated the hastily constructed and potentially flawed plan. He had picked up on the abrupt stop mid sentence, indicating his own ineptitude. Sam had a point. Yet, the thought of risking his brother's life went against his every instinct. Another tremor rattled his body as his fever increased another notch. Hell, he would be too weak to attempt anything, soon. With a heavy heart, he agreed, seeing the sense in Sam's plan.

"OK, let's get this over with."

He pushed off from the Impala and banged the door shut, immediately regretting the force.

"Sorry, baby." he amended, petting the shiny black metal of the car's roof gently.

****

**Inside, Barn 14:40h**

"I want you to know, that I am grateful, Amy."

The voice was soft again, even reassuring. Amy cringed away from it unable to endure any more of the vicious taunting.

"I can sense them, they are close. Soon, I will have Samuel and I shall smite him down."

The girl licked her lips the pleasure of her imminent victory sweet on her tongue.

"Then I'll reign the whole earth with no one to stop me any more. And all because of you, Amy."

Her voice had adopted a megalomaniac attitude so inconsistent with the sweet child, whose body had been in the demon queen's grip for a much too long time, it rippled Amy's skin and tore up her soul.

Amy blanched and suppressed the urge to scream. She watched as the child's eyes misted over, otherworldly opacity replacing humanity. The girl's gaze locked on the nearly lifeless body of her prey.

"I could still help you. I reward those who serve me. All you need to do is, let Asmodai back in, _willingly_. You and I will rule together for he is my companion."

Amy gasped, her body contorted in a seizure brought on by the amount of blood she had shed. Her back arched, muscles twitching, fists clenched as they gripped the shabby sheet under her. Her face showed the agony, tears streaming down her cheeks, as her eyes turned a deep blue induced by the torment. Her short, blond hair stuck to her head, soaked in sweat. The sinews in her neck stood out as the muscles in her body contracted painfully and the gash in her abdomen burst open even further and a stream of dark blood welled out. The ensuing scream was only blocked by the stiffened jugular muscles and a low groan was all that escaped between her clenched jaws.

"Ah, well. Have it your way then. I can hear them. They are coming. Watch, as I rise to power, human!"

Her voice took on a vindictive tone as she walked to the door, her face a representation of a child about to unpack an impatiently anticipated Christmas present.

The seizure abated, leaving Amy's body broken and close to unconsciousness. Even opening her red-rimmed, tearful eyes proved to be an effort.

_'How much longer... Make it end... So tired...' _

Eventually, Amy prised her eyes open and followed Lilith's advance on the door. She let out a breath she had unconsciously held, stars danced in front of her vision. There was no chance to warn the approaching men. She would have to witness them die on her behalf.

Silent tears of remorse trickled down Amy's pale cheeks again as Lilith left the barn and ventured out to kill her courageous saviors. All she could do was cry now... and wait for the end.

****

**Outside the barn 15:20h**

Dean tried to sneak closer to the barn's side without making so much a sound. His injured body shook slightly and it impeded his usual cat-like agility. Every few steps, he had to stop to catch his breath and he wiped at the sweat beading his face, running down the cheeks and soaking his throat. His long curling lashes brushed at tired eyes, their paleness highlighting the dark circles below them as his Adam's apple bobbed when he tried to bite back the bile rising in his throat again.

He shook his head to regain full awareness and regretted the movement instantly as it jarred at his shoulder and intensified the nausea.

_'Suck it up, Winchester. You can do this! Only a little while longer...'_

He had to accomplish the last part of the plan.

****

**Earlier**

They had scouted the area thoroughly. Besides the barn, there were only two other buildings on the farm. One large two storey house screaming for demolition rather sooner than later and the stable. First, they entered the house together but to their astonishment they found none of the expected demons inside. Only rats scuttling below tables and along the walls. Dean gagged at the thought of them gnawing on Amy's body while she had slept. After all, rats were supposed to be everywhere on the farm, weren't they? He shuddered again.

Searching every room for demonic signs or sulfur, again their quest brought nothing of the kind to light. Eventually, they stood on the porch again, panting and bewildered.

Dean leaned his weary body against the wooden wall for a few seconds, trying to regain control over his breathing and desperate for rest. They looked at each other, communicating in silence, reluctantly Dean pushed off the wall and followed his tall brother leading the way to their next target. Aware of how heavy his legs felt and the effort it cost him to hold the gun, Dean pulled on his last resources, a little surprised he still had some energy left in him.

Next on the list was the stable. Slowly approaching the wooden structure, they first went for the windows. Peeking in, they counted three persons sitting at a rickety, coarse oak table. They sat, unnaturally straight and silent, as if waiting for someone, their obsidian eyes attentive and evil directed at the gate.

The hunters circled the worn out stable and looked through each window, salting every possible way out. They stopped next to the gate communicating silently. Sam moved across to the other side of it, drawing a rock salt line in front of it and nodded to indicate he was ready. Dean, gun upraised, mouthed a count to three and they tore down the rotten wood of the door with a few heavy kicks of their boots.

Dean staggered and leaned against the door's splintered frame, trying to steady his legs. His vision deteriorated for a minute, tiny black spots dancing in front of him and he closed his pale eyes. The mangled shoulder throbbed menacingly at the forceful entrance. Dean wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, gun still in its grip, and concentrated on Sam's voice as the younger man had immediately begun to recite the _Rituale Romanum_ from memory. The powerful rhythm of Sam's voice lulled Dean into a kind of trance and reduced the pain in his body.

_Exorcizamus te, omnis immunde spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica_

_Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te_

_cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae perditionis venenum propinare_

_Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis._

_Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili Nomine Iesu, quem inferi tremunt_

_Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine._

_Exorcizamus te, omnis immunde spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica_

Dean felt his eyelids flutter and fought the weight of sleep pressing down on him.  
The demons screamed and snarled as they searched for an exit when Sam struck out verbally to vanquish the demons back to hell.

_Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te_

_cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae perditionis venenum propinare_

_Vade, satana_

_Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos._

The roar of the escaping creatures filled the stable and it assaulted Dean's ears, making his eyes water. He winced and watched the now exorcised human bodies fall to the ground while the too familiar black smoke curled at the roof and disappeared with a loud, sucking sound.

**Outside the barn 15:21h**

Dean moved slowly, silently towards the barn's gate. He stopped, when he reached a tiny hole in the wooden construction next to it and chanced a glance inside. His vision was narrowed by the wood surrounding the tiny opening, yet he could see Amy lying on her pallet. He was horrified to discover her too still form, white as a sheet, a pool of crimson next to her makeshift bed.

_'Too much blood. Oh god, don't let her be dead, please, don't let her be dead.'_

He prayed moving on to enter the large building. Softly pushing against the door he opened it.

_'Unlocked? That's odd...' _

He had no time to finish the thought when a strong grip fastened around his injured shoulder and pulled him to one side, pinning him face forward to the rotten wall. Cursing in agony, Dean tried to break free from the attacker and started wriggling and kicking at the unseen adversary.

"What the...you son of a bitch, lemme go!"

"Now, now, I thought, I told you to stay out of my business."

Dean winced as he recognized the mock-grandmother voice.

"You should have checked more carefully before you entered. Getting sloppy, are you?" She cackled.

Dean felt splinters prick his stubbly cheek as he tried to speak, however all the air was squeezed out of his lungs as the demonic librarian amplified the pressure against his back.

"Come to rescue her? Well, I'm afraid you are too late. She is too far gone. Lost a lot of blood, you see."

"Whaddyadotoher?" The words tumbled from his mouth, muffled by his uncomfortable, awkward position against the wall.

"Me? Well, we had a chat, much like the one you and me had back in the archives. However, I must give you that, you were a much worthier opponent. She just screamed and whined her way through it. Yet you, Dean, you don't give in easily, do you? We'll see how much you can take. Once, Lilith is here, we will sit down and talk."

Dean gasped desperately trying to fill his burning lungs with fresh air. His shoulder felt numb and he smiled slightly at the absence of the pain although he knew it was not necessarily a good sign. Fighting against the determined grip, he felt it loosen a little and pushed harder against the possessed librarian.

A soft moan drifted through the barn. His eyes widened as he identified Amy's voice.

"Dean? Oh, no. It's a trap, Dean. They want to kill you."

Her voice almost inaudible, reactivated Dean's will to fight and he kicked hard against granny's knee. He heard a crushing sound as the brittle bones made contact with his kicking foot. He felt the grip weaken even more and leaned in using the full weight of his muscular body to unsteady his attacker. Turning around he pushed the demonic librarian out of the way and staggered over to Amy's side. The demon clutched at her leg howling in rage.

"You're not getting out of this alive, Dean Winchester."

She roared with pain and anger, hobbling forward on one leg. Obviously mending bones wasn't so easy even for a demon with advanced osteoporosis.

"Oh, yeah? Says who?"

He challenged her, stepping between the tortured woman and the librarian to shield Amy from possible attacks.

"You don't know, do you? You're gonna die, hunter! One way or the other, you'll be dead within a week, but judging by your blood loss and your fever, it might even be sooner."

Dean gaped but quickly caught himself.

"Yeah, sure. And the Easter bunny is behind all this."

_'Lame!' _His snark obviously had taken a shore leave and he didn't feel as relaxed and unconcerned as he had attempted to sound. Was it possible that the freakin' demon told the truth? He had felt weird lately and that couldn't just originate from any gun shot. Normally, they stung for some days. But it hadn't healed properly. What if there was something wrong with him?

"No, not the Easter bunny, Dean. Me."

He turned towards the new, high voice coming from the door. A girl of about ten years smiled at him, a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes. His insides churned, his instincts telling him to get _the hell_ out, grab Sam and run.

Although, she was just a little girl, she emanated power and menace. Dean was reminded of Azazel back in the cabin two years before. He shivered violently at the memory.

"So, you've come to rescue her?"

The girl pointed at Amy. "I knew you'd come. Where is your pain-in-the-ass little brother? You two don't normally split, do you?"

Looking around she closed the distance between herself and the hunter with small, girlish steps. She held up one hand and Dean felt the familiar panic as his muscles ceased to work for him and Lilith held him pinned. She merely rose her tiny out-stretched hand a fraction and his body lifted an inch or so into the air, his boots scraping the pounded floor. He tried to fight the uneasy sensation but was unable to move a muscle.

Dean had flinched inwardly at her mention of his brother, but used his fear to fuel his anger and he spat at her, "You wanna know where Sammy is, Bitch?" Eyes blazing with defiance, mouth curled downwards mockingly.

"He's not here, I sent him away."

"Real bright, Dean. 'Cos when I find him I'll kill him."

She stopped a few steps away from Dean and smiled. He grinned at her through clenched teeth praying that Sammy was okay.

A sound coming from outside made them all turn towards the door.

"Dean! Where are you?"

Both demons and the hunter jerked their heads towards the yell coming from somewhere close to the building.

"Damn it, Sammy! Should've stayed where you were." Dean yelled and his voice broke from the stress.

He watched terrified when Lilith and the recovered librarian quickly moved towards the gate and the older woman opened it.

Lilith looked back at the weary hunter and leered at him. "See you in a bit. Gotta go play with Sammy first."

All the fight seemed to have left Dean and as soon as the paralysis evaporated, he flopped to the floor, the impact jarring his temporarily quiescent shoulder painfully back to life.

There was nothing he could do now, except get Amy out.

~~~~~*~~~~~

_To Be Continued

* * *

_

**End note:** _Rituale Romanum_ as used in **Jus in Bello**... Sorry I dragged it out so much but I thought it was nice to have the full ritual once in a story...


	11. Trappers

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 11/15  
**W********arnings****: **none  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N I:** The time line in this chapter is a little hard to follow... My apologies for that in advance!

**A/N II:** Dream/Psychic connection scenes: ~Amy~ left; ~Dean~ in the center...

**A/N III:** There is one of my favorite scenes in this chapter... sick/hurt!Dean, oooooh the poor guy.

* * *

**_Links_**

_by__ RoweenaC_

**_Chapter 11: Trappers_**

**Near stable, 15:15h**

Sam watched as Dean sneaked closer to the barn. The tall man hadn't been too enthusiastic about Dean going alone. Yet, he had carried out his part of the plan so far, so there was no turning back from it any more. Observing the obvious weakness his brother exuded, Sam felt his panic flare up even more.

_'Freakin' self-sacrificing jerk.'_

****

**Earlier **

They had escorted the three disoriented and scared victims to the edge of the farm property and had told them the approximate direction to Foxville. Then had hastened back to the barn as fast as Dean's fever-racked body would allow. On their way back, they had discussed their options. Clearly, Lilith would be waiting for them in the barn, now that they were sure she was nowhere else on the farm's grounds.

"So then Dean, the plan is....?"

Sam turned his head towards his struggling brother, who was hobbling along at his left side. Dean shot a glance at his baby brother, sweat pouring down his pale face as he licked at his parched lips.

"Well," he started, trying to hide his breath coming in wheezes. "We need Lilith to leave the barn, so I can grab Amy."

"Sure thing, but how are we gonna do it?"

Sam chose to ignore Dean's quickly deteriorating health because he knew that would only piss his sibling off even more.

"_We_ aren't gonna do it. And that's that. You'll stay near the stable and I'm heading for the barn. I'll find a way to lure Lilith away from her."

"Dean, we've been there. Not gonna happen! You can't do it on your own. And what if Lilith's not on her own? Jeez, surely even your ego doesn't believe it can tackle more than one demon at a time? Hell, you could barely stand back in the stable..."

"Sam, don't. Just don't."

Dean's low voiced answer spoke volumes. Sam knew that the other was fighting for his self-control and so he bit back his reply. His mind racing with possible plans he screwed up his face and voiced one of them.

"What if I stay at the stables, draw a devil's trap inside while you go and figure out how many demons are in there. Then, I'll try and lure her - or them - to the sigil and perform an exorcism giving you enough time to get Amy to the car."

Dean considered Sam's suggestions recognizing big loop-holes in them and -above all- the immense, incalculable risks to Sam's safety. He didn't like it.

However, there wasn't enough time and they didn't have anything better to offer. Hesitantly, he nodded his agreement, the motion sending another wave of nausea to his now constantly throbbing head.

****

**Near stable, 15:16h**

Deciding there wasn't anything he could do for Dean or the girl now, Sam headed back to the stable and re-checked the salt lines surrounding the building broken only at the entrance and the devil's trap painted carefully above the threshold. It had been difficult to reach up that high, even for him. He had been forced to crane his neck all the way back and stretch his extra-long arm all the way. Finally, limb tingling and neck throbbing in red-hot waves, he had accomplished a perfect sigil.

_  
'Satanic roach motel, indeed.'_

He had grinned as his mind went back to the first time he had drawn one of them but quickly returned to the present situation with a jolt. He couldn't afford to take any chances if it came to fighting the new demonic leader. He had to make sure that his part in the plan worked and to stay focused as for this one time he couldn't completely rely on Dean coming to his aid.

Sam had seen the shivers and felt the heat radiating in waves from his brother's fevered body even though Dean had tried to hide his condition. How or _if_ the limp, stubborn hunter was going to fulfill his role in breaking Amy free and getting them both to the safety of the Impala downright eluded Sam. His hazel eyes darkened as he remembered Dean's desperate attempts to mask the shallow breathing and the spasms rattling his failing body. He had no idea where Dean drew his strength from but he marveled at it.

Sam shook his head and adopted his sentry position by the gate from where he had a clear view of the barn.

****

Once Dean had vanished inside the building, Sam waited for his cue to create the diversion. So, Lilith wasn't in there. A sigh of relieve escaped his parched mouth. They had estimated it would take Dean some time to free Amy and as he only had one good hand it might even take a little longer than usual. They agreed that ten minutes were enough. Sam was to draw the demon's attention to himself should she approach the barn early or as soon as Dean and Amy made a bolt for it, whichever came about first.

Sam felt panic rise inside him as he waited for his brother to re-emerge, misgivings tearing at his conscience. _What if Dean was too weak to get Amy out? What if there were demons inside? What if Lilith wouldn't come? What if Amy was dead already? What if Dean .... _

NO, he had to act, now. He checked his watch. Eight minutes. Sam approached the barn, shotgun at the ready, fearful of giving away the element of surprise. As he stepped to the nearest window he chanced a glance inside and felt his heart skip several beats.

Dean was held motionless, pinned in the air, his feet barely touching the cloying clay surface of the barn floor, held fast by Lilith's powerful telekinesis. Sam shuddered at the contrast between the sweet, innocent appearance and the evidently evil creature inside the girl. He strained to pick up on the conversation going on inside, desperate to hear his brother's voice. Why the hell had Dean entered the building without letting Sam know about Lilith?

"You wanna know where Sammy is, Bitch?"

Dean's snark clear in the provocative taunt, Sam let out a breath he didn't remember he had held.

"He's not here, I sent him away."

Sam grinned unintentionally. _'Yeah, you sure wish you did, bro.'_

Lurking at the window, Sam watched as Lilith advanced further on his brother.

"Real bright, Dean. 'Cos when I find him I'll kill him."

Her voice was hardly loud enough to reach his ears and he leaned in willing to catch her words. In doing so, he tripped over a small stone and stumbled on the uneven surface. Sam jerked his head back from the window struggling to regain balance and his grip on the shotgun. As he tried to hold on to the gun it scraped the wall of the barn.

Mentally kicking his own ass, Sam slid down the wall of the barn and hunkered down, panting heavily. He wiped at the sweat streaming down his cheeks and soaking his collar, and rose halfway. It was now or never, doubtlessly, everyone inside had heard his dumb-ass lapse and he might at least use it to their advantage. So he straightened up again as soon as his hands had stopped shivering and yelled loud enough to be heard inside the barn.

"Dean! Where are you?"

_'Now, back to the stables. Not too fast, let them see, where you go,'_ he coached himself while he struggled against the urge to sprint.

He heard the gate creaking open and muffled voices sifted through the afternoon's silence. Then, the door slammed shut and he could make out foot falls behind him. Resisting the need to turn around he quickened his pace a little whilst listening intently to the sounds behind him.

_'Weird... I'd swear there's something off,'_ he thought shaking his head nervously. _'Just can't put my finger on it.'_

Pushing the unsettling feeling aside he re-focused on the next step of their plan. '_Lead her to the stable. Don't let her get too close. Let her feel in control.'_

He headed for the small wooden structure that was his destination, his ears alert to his tiny yet vicious pursuer.

The minute he crossed the threshold he bolted to the right behind door and waited, with his back to the wall his gun leveled at the estimated height of the child's head. Of course, none of the shells they possessed would do any harm to a demon other than distracting its attention for a few moments. However, he felt reassured by the familiar weight in his hand.

He pushed back the disturbing idea of shooting a small girl in the head even if it wouldn't permanently stop the demon. His ears strained to capture the arrival of his approaching target while seconds stretched into hours. When Lilith's footfalls finally reached the gate Sam straightened. All she had to do was cross through and then it would be over. Willing her to step through the frame he bit down on his bottom lip.

_'Come on, come on. Just a little further.'_

Stars erupted in front of his eyes and he realized he had been holding his breath again. He let it out silently.

Finally Sam's pursuer entered the building and Sam was surprised to see an adult shoe cross the threshold, to be followed a fraction of a second later by a smaller child's foot. Understanding dawned on the hunter. He had heard two sets of feet following him earlier. So, there had been another demon inside the barn with Lilith and obviously, it had accompanied her.

_'Damn that Winchester luck!'_

Re-establishing his vigilance he watched as the two demons moved in further into the dimly lit stable.

"Sammy? Samuel? Where are you? Dontcha wanna play with me?"

The soft, high-pitched voice rang eerily in Sam's ears.

_'A girl. A freakin' school-girl.' _

His mind raced with the dichotomy of innocence and evil merged into one body and he felt cold sweat soaking the back of his buttoned down shirt, sticking it to his tensed muscles. He swallowed heavily. His mouth was as arid as the Sahara Desert. The lurking hunter braced himself and counted silently until his breath had evened out. The moment he saw the adult demon's right hand coming into view, he knew he had to act now or risk exposure.

Sam kicked powerfully against the door and raised the gun closer to his face squinting in the half-light. As the opponents appeared clearly in his field of vision he took in the bewildering sight. Like a scene from _Little Red Riding Hood_, they stood side by side, grandmother shielding the girl from the gun barrel and one hand outstretched as if to ward off the expected shot.

Sam had to grin despite of the seriousness of the situation.

_'Does that make me the Big Bad Wolf or the Hunter?'_

He imagined his brother's voice disbelievingly adding _'Dude, how gay can you be?' _and he found he actually had to stifle a laugh.

Regaining control over his fit of hysteria, hazel eyes shot up briefly to the ceiling and he registered in relief that both possessed humans stood exactly within the scope of the sigil. Cautiously, he advanced on them, keeping the demons at gunpoint. He moved around the still swinging door, keeping his back to the doorway, the only way out. The only way to get to Dean. A sudden urgency quickened his pulse. Sam blinked as sweat beads ran down through his brows and into his eyes and interfered with his sight.

"Where are you going, Samuel? We only just met! Try to be polite and let's talk. We have so much to share, don't you think? I have to thank you for getting rid of Azazel for starters. And then, opening the Devil's Gate. Nice job!"

While she was talking, Lilith had rounded fully on Sam sidestepping her protector. Her face showed a mask of honest appreciation and naive interest. Yet, her eyes cast a cruel, menacing glance at the towering man in front of her. Sam felt the back of his neck prickle with goosebumps, the short brown hairs had risen like tiny soldiers standing to attention. His alertness rose a few notches as Lilith took a step forward. He wondered what would happen once Lilith realized her now limited space to maneuver freely. That was _if_ the trap really would work on a powerful demon such as Lilith. They had never used a devil's trap on the yellow-eyed SOB, so there was no way of being sure.

Sam backed out slowly, his eyes fixed on the two demons. He knew it wouldn't be much longer till they detected the entrapment. Sure enough, Lilith chose this exact moment to move forward and lifted her hand to call on her abilities she had so easily and cruelly used on Dean mere minutes ago.

A blast hit Sam squarely in the chest throwing him out of the stable and he landed painfully, breathtakingly on his lower back while the comforting security of the weapon was forced from his sweaty fist. His body came to a rest spread-eagled on the dried up grass and struggled against nauseating waves of pain emanating from his spine.

_'Crap.' _

****

Dean struggled to regain control over his body which he felt was slowly shutting down. The librarian's words about him destined to die within the next days came back to him. What the hell was wrong with him? This couldn't just be any garden-variety fever or something. He blinked to force the pain-induced tears in the corners of his pale eyes back and tipped his head towards the frail body on the pallet.

_'Suck it up, Winchester!'_

Pushing himself up gingerly he battled his way through the grip of the ensuing nausea. Eyes shut firmly he concentrated on his breathing. It seemed to be taking more effort each time to open them again. Fatigue was enveloping him and he wondered absently how much longer he could stay on his feet.

Dean staggered and moved towards the girl. He had a job to do now. Had to focus. Lowering his body next to Amy's bed he reached out to touch her head. Her skin felt damp and she did not react to his contact. After he had checked on her flat and erratic pulse he gently patted her shoulder.

"Amy? Amy, can you hear me? Wake up, damn it!"

The desperate note of urgency in his words echoed in the barn. He shook his head disbelievingly. How was he to get her to the car? He needed her to be at least conscious.

Looking down at Amy's bloodless face he observed that her eyelids fluttered weakly.

"Yeah, that's it. Fight it, girl!"

He encouraged her not sure if his voice, let alone his words, got through to her, but he accepted that they at least did something to soothe his own escalating panic.

After what seemed hours, Amy opened her pale eyes, her turquoise gaze searching for a point of orientation and finally locking onto Dean's equally pale green.

"You good?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly, attempting to smile, yet to Dean it rather looked like a pained scowl.

"Can you get up? We need to get to the car. There isn't much time left and I can't ... I can't carry you all the way." Dean cringed at the admission of his own inability.

"I... can... try."

She drew a hitching breath in-between every word.

_'Not a good sign. Tough chick.' _

Dean was used to assessing people's conditions, especially Sammy's. And he had encountered similar reactions way too often not to be aware of the possible implications. This girl was in an even worse state than he was. But still, she fought it. He had to admit he was impressed by her determination.

He helped Amy to a sitting position, noting her tormented shudders and the way she clutched at her nasty belly wound. She needed a hospital ASAP. And he himself might as well, for that matter. Scowling at the thought of doctors pricking and poking at his shoulder, he shoved his good arm under her left arm, snaking it around her back and gripped one of her belt loops tightly.

Searching her gaze to get the all-clear for lift-off, she nodded at his unspoken request. He counted to three and they rose in a collectively agonized effort.

Incapable of standing straight without pain too marked to tolerate, they scuffled in a slow, hunch-backed gait towards the door. They had to pause every so often for Amy to catch her breath and prevent her from fainting, which would have resulted in Dean going down with her.

Minutes seemed to stretch into hours and as they finally reached the door, Dean desperately gripping at the timber for support. He let go of Amy for a short time but the young woman found a way to support herself by leaning in heavily against Dean's good arm. His shoulder screamed violently and he had to muster all his strength to keep himself from groaning out loud. Amy's weight was cutting of circulation and her head lulled weakly towards his biceps. He could already feel a numbing sensation creeping into his right side. He took another minute to steady himself trying to push away the knowledge that there was an incomparably longer distance to cover ahead of them without the possibility to pause.

Gathering his strength, Dean pushed away from the door and opened it in one fluid motion using his briefly mustered power, however, he regretted the movement instantly as it distinctly unsettled Amy's footing. She stumbled and Dean heard a sharp intake of breath next to him while he fought to keep their balance right.

"Sorry."

He whispered and once Amy had control over her limp body they set out over the threshold and turned left in the rough direction of the black safe haven waiting for them.

The journey took all Dean's reserves of waning energy just to maintain his slipping consciousness and he could only imagine how much it cost the girl staggering and stumbling at his side.

Half-way through, Amy's weight brought them both down as Dean lost his grip, his arm numbed by the constant strain. They fell to the ground and Dean landed clumsily on his already mangled, inflamed shoulder. His ruined left hand rested painfully pressed beneath his thigh. The impact rendered him close to unconsciousness, unhindered tears of agony poured down his pale cheeks and he couldn't stifle a tormented sob when Amy's motionless form toppled on top of him. A weak groan escaped him.

Unsure if he could get up again, Dean considered surrender as an option for the first time in his hunter life.

Scared off by his own willingness to accept defeat he shrugged off the looming loss of consciousness for one last effort, knowing full well his reserves were near depletion and he wouldn't be able to fend off blissful oblivion next time.

He managed to extricate his protesting body from under Amy's lifeless weight and struggled to a kneeling position. Panting heavily, his left side blazing hot with pain, he had to stop for a moment to wait until the spasms rattling his torso abated. He looked up, unaware of the tears still soaking his pain racked face.

Amy's eyes where still open, however she appeared to be unable to focus. His good hand squeezed her left and she turned her head in his direction. Glad of her immediate, if weak reaction, he staggered to his feet and pulled her with him while trying to blank out her whimpering moans and his own agony. Dean's mind concentrated on the only thing that mattered now.

_'The car. To the car.'_

The sight of the Impala made Dean nearly lose his balance in relief. He dragged on half pulling and half carrying a non-respondent Amy at his side, his face contorted into a determined snarl to make it to the car.

He leaned Amy gently against the side of the car and reached for the door handle of the back seat. Then Dean pulled at it with a shaking, clammy hand and the door opened with the familiar, soothing groan. The hunter closed his eyes thankfully exhaustion washing dizzyingly over his weakened body. For the last time he grabbed Amy and lowered her body down on the cooling softness of the leather seat as gently as he could.

Dean searched for her pulse and wasn't surprised when he hardly felt anything. Where the hell was Sammy? They needed to clear out NOW!

He stood up wearily, closed the door and made for the passenger door. A myriad of tiny spots exploded in front of his eyes and a splitting headache tore through his brain pounding to the rhythm of his weak, erratic heart-beat. His right hand shot up to his temple, feeling the unnaturally warm skin burning with fever while his back came to a rest against the Impala's cool metal.

The exhausting ordeal of getting to the Impala finally caught up with Dean and he felt himself slide down the side of his car, incapable of holding his drained body up any more.

_'Come on, Sammy. Hurry. Not feelin' so ...' _

And he slipped into the safe, soothing embrace of unconsciousness.

****

Sam took a deep breath. Had he been unconscious? No! Maybe...? His mind slowly caught up with reality. Lilith had sent him flying approximately 12 feet through the air. The devil's trap hadn't worked properly maybe even failed completely.

_'Fantastic. Just peachy!' _

Wondering why he was still alive and free, he shook his head to clear away the cobwebs clogging his brain and tipped his head to check on the stable.

Sam had expected Lilith to be lurking close to him, vindictive leer on her small rosebud lips. However, there was no indication the demons had left the stable. They still stood there, side by side, within the sigil's sphere. Apparently, the pictogram didn't prevent Lilith form using her powers as it usually did with lesser demons, however it kept them both from following him.

Feeling a great wave of relief running through his lanky body, he stumbled to his feet. His head and back ached dully, but after mentally checking every part of his body, he discovered no other injury. Sam decided he wouldn't check on the demons more closely remembering his sick brother's part of the plan. He still hadn't worked out if he had passed out and therefore he had no notion on how long ago Dean had entered the barn. For all Sam knew, Dean could have been at the Impala minutes or hours ago, impatiently expecting his baby brother's return. Hell, he might even have come after him.

At these thoughts, Sam turned on his heels and ran as fast as he could to where he was supposed to meet up with Dean again. He heard a cackle behind him and a yell drifted towards his ears.

"He's dying, Samuel. Nothing you can do about it. I made sure of that. He'll be in hell soon..."

Sam attempted to block out the pictures and emotions these taunting words automatically triggered in him.

_'Lying bitch! Demons lie!'_

He repeatedly told himself, there was nothing to fear and that Dean would be okay. Sure, he would be worried sick and probably pissed, but a-okay.

_'But the fever...'_

As soon as the Impala came into view, Sam sped up even more his flat-out pace almost causing him to collide with the driver's door. His huge outstretched palms flattened against the window as he slithered to a halt. Panting he shot a glance inside and his eyes widened equally with relief and fear. So, the girl was out. But where the hell was....

"Dean? DEAN?!"

He roared out in panic and bolted over to the other side in a few long strides.

The sight meeting his already moistening eyes made Sam's heart skip several beats...

~~~~~*~~~~~

_To Be Continued

* * *

_

**End Note:** Sorry 'bout the cliffie, heh. But at least you don't have to wait too long for the next chappie. When I first posted this story there were weeks between them... So... on to the next one!


	12. There Is Still Time

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 12/15  
**W********arnings****: ****none**  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N:** full on protective!Sammy in this one. And a pooooooor Dean.

* * *

**_Links_**

_by__ RoweenaC_

_Chapter 12: __There is still time_

Dean's battered form lay crumpled against the passenger door of the Impala, his head lolling towards his right side, eyes closed. He had slipped down as his shoulders failed to find any purchase against the door's shiny surface so that his good side was lower than the mangled one giving him the awkward, lopsided appearance of a broken doll. His right hand lay loosely on the rough ground acting as an insubstantial prop in his graceless collapse. The shoulder wound had reopened and his already soaked shirt stuck to the ragged edges of the gash there. His smashed left hand lay limply in Dean's lap. As Sam's worried eyes wandered over his brother's face, he registered the ghostly pallor turning his skin transparent. Older scars, even the tiniest ones, stood out against the whiteness. His long dark lashes licked at the dark smudges beneath his closed eyes and his pale lips were parted a little. His clothes were muddied; dirt ground into the knees of his tattered jeans and stains dappling his jacket at the elbows.

Following the dirty tracks, Sam's stomach clenched at the image forming in his mind. His already worn-out brother had fallen down during his arduous journey to the car's safety. On his ruined shoulder. Sam was incapable of imagining how the battered hunter had found the strength to get up again _and_ carry the girl. Shooting a glance at the backseat Sam confirmed his assumption that Amy must have been nearly, if not completely, unconscious. She hadn't moved so far. Meaning Dean had to have dragged her here. He marveled at the strength of purpose that Dean had, fighting the dichotomy of awe versus angst that he felt for his heroic brother. Sam swallowed hard against the sob choking him.

The tall hunter took in the alarming sight in front of him and crouched down next to his brother. He tried to fight the feelings of panic arising within him, although that effort seemed to be in vain as his heartbeat quickened, pounding like a sledgehammer against his ribs, and he felt cold sweat pouring down his back and cheeks. Biting on his bottom lip he held back the impending yell that formed in his throat. The yell at his brother to wake up, open his eyes, to show _some _sign of life. Sam's hand reached out to touch his brother's too pale, motionless face. He noticed how his long fingers shook and was slightly relieved as they made contact with Dean's stubbly cheek, the contact grounding him on something solid and steady. The touch, however, did nothing to console Sam. Dean's skin felt damp and feverish.

_'Warm, thank god.' _Sam felt relief blossoming inside him. There was still time.

****

For once in his life, Sam Winchester was actually glad to see his brother unconscious for two reasons. Firstly, under normal circumstances, Dean would have protested to hell and back should Sam have attempted to carry him. And secondly, he might have downright refused the badly needed trip to the hospital.

However, Dean could not complain when Sam slipped his arms around his unconscious body. Nor could he hear Sam's groan as he, in one swift movement, heaved up his brother's muscular bulk, to lean him against the side of the car. He kept one hand firmly pressed against Dean's back to steady him as, with his right hand, he grabbed the door handle and pulled the squeaking door open. Even though Dean was unconscious, Sam couldn't bring himself to relegate his brother to the inappropriate yet more comfortable backseat of the Impala next to Amy, knowing how it would hurt Dean and also because he knew he would need to constantly monitor Dean's vital signs on their way to the hospital.

His mind flew back to a similar journey, his father next to him, riding shotgun, and a heavily bleeding, broken Dean in the back. Sam had been able to see Dean in the rear view mirror; his pale face had been smeared with blood then. However, his hero of a brother had fought against the pull of unconsciousness and had answered Sam's non-verbal question about his condition with a pained grin. Dean. His big brother. Always making sure Sammy was okay. Protecting Sam from the terrible agony he had been in that night...

At these painful memories, Sam staggered a little, feeling tears welling in the corners of his eyes and his hands started to shake again. To focus on the task at hand, he desperately tried to remember where exactly the hospital was. Pushing the disquieting thoughts about a dying Dean far to the back of his mind, he lowered his alarmingly still brother down on the smooth leather seat.

Finally achieving his goal and slamming the door shut, Sam allowed himself to gasp out a deep breath and then hurried over to the driver's side. He shot a glance at the girl, assessed her condition. Dean had obviously made an effort to ease Amy on the seat in the back, her chest rose up and down ever so slightly indicating the pressing need for medical attention. The wound on her belly had finally stopped bleeding, and Sam could only estimate the amount of blood she had lost before. A small dark puddle had formed on the floor of the car.

_'Dean will be pissed. Blood is a bitch to clean up.'_

Sam found himself smirking at this anticipated reaction only to then be hit with the realization that his brother would not be fit enough to care about such trivialities for a few days at least, that was if he survived at all.

Slipping down on the driver's seat, Sam took another deep breath and fumbled the keys into the ignition. The engine roared reassuringly and he felt the wheels spin on the graveled dirt track as he slammed down on the throttle. The fishtailing car shot down the path and Sam glanced at the unmoving form next to him, wondering if there was indeed enough time to get to the hospital. Dean's head had tilted towards the window and now his forehead rested against the cool glass, shielding his pallid face from the direct view of his brother's searching hazel eyes. His breath came in shallow wheezes and shivers rocked and rattled his whole body as his fever peaked. An icy hand wrapped around Sam's rapidly beating heart and he pushed the pedal down even more, wheels squeaking when they made contact with the asphalt of the main road leading to Foxville.

****

The Impala came to a slithering halt in front of the emergency entry of the hospital. Two orderlies stood outside smoking and chatting animatedly to each other. The dramatic arrival of the old Chevy spurred them to instant action, however, and they tossed their cigarettes and hurried to Sam's side to assess the situation. The tall young man emerging from the driver's seat had a harassed look on his face, which the orderlies usually connected with fathers-to-be. However, on approaching the man they saw tears on his cheeks and registered the sweat beading his pale forehead. Obviously a more severe, maybe even life-threatening, circumstance had brought him here.

"Please, I need your help! I've got two seriously injured people in the car..."

He ripped open the door to the back-seat and motioned towards it, soulful eyes resting on the older orderly, intuitively searching the man's experienced help. Walter Hancock hurried over, deeply moved by the boy's obvious helplessness and his plea for assistance.

"Jack, come on. Go get a gurney."

He shot a glance to the passenger's seat and turned back to face his colleague once more.

"No, make that two."

The orderly nodded and departed at a pace through the sliding doors of the emergency room entrance. Sam watched him disappear with relief that he had at least made it to the hospital with both his charges still alive and he turned and hurried back to Dean, desperate to see how he was faring. Sam cautiously opened the door, slipping his strong hand inside as fast as he could when he saw his brother's limp body start to topple out.

"Dean! You gotta wake up now, man. We made it. We're at the hospital!"

Usually, the urgency and panic in his voice would have resulted in Dean's immediate alertness but worryingly there was no immediate response. Sam needed Dean to wake up. Now. To see that his brother was still there, that he was alright and hadn't been permanently replaced by this pale, unrecognizable shell of a broken warrior before him. Dean's unresponsive form tilted towards his brother's waiting arms and Sam was shocked to feel the heat emanating from him. He felt too hot and betrayed the fever coursing through his body.

Panic was setting in and Sam sought desperately for the orderly with the gurney. However, he only saw the other man carrying Amy to the doors. Yielding, Sam grabbed Dean around his torso and lifted him up, cradling the wobbling head against his deep chest. He gasped at the struggle and shifted Dean's weight a little to reassure himself that he wouldn't lose his grip. Eventually, having found his balance, he headed to the entry. Halfway there, the doors opened and Jack returned pulling a gurney behind him. Immensely grateful, Sam walked over to the orderly and gently nestled Dean down. Dean's head rolled to his left side and his right hand fell slackly over the side indicating his deep unconsciousness.

Jack leaned over him and quickly checked Dean's vitals. Looking up stony-faced, he nodded to Sam to follow him.

"He your brother?" Jack asked quietly while he pulled the gurney rapidly to the reopening doors.

"Uhuh," was all Sam could muster to answer as he watched a doctor bustling over to them.

"He'll be fine. It's the best hospital." Still pushing, Jack turned his head and smiled reassuringly.

_'As if there was another one around.' _

Sam didn't take his eyes off Dean while the newly arrived doctor busied himself with his brother and never once acknowledged Sam's presence.

"He was shot a few days back and he has a fever." Sam recounted in a trembling voice, attempting to attract the doctor's attention.

_'Why 's he not looking at me? Does that mean that Dean is even worse than I thought?'_

Quickly, Sam fought to push away the ensuing, overwhelming memories of the innumerable times that his big brother had been admitted to hospital in a severe condition. Even as a kid, Dean had frequently required medical care when hunts had turned out to be more dangerous than John had suspected or Dean had stood between his baby brother and the enemy. Always protecting Sammy from perilous assaults.

Sam had hated to see his brother hurt every time and always felt guilty, even if he hadn't been on the hunt with him. A hurt Dean meant that his brother had again valued his own life less than someone else's and to Sam, that had been the most mysterious and feared aspect. Because he worshiped and adored his strong, skilled hero of a brother, he felt his world collapse every time his brother put other people's welfare before his own health; neglecting, or possibly not even understanding, how important he was to Sam. Sam had always aspired to make Dean believe how much he loved and admired him. However, Dean had just reflected the affection back at him, never letting it truly seep through the multi-layered brick wall around his inner self, incapable of accepting his brother's love as evidence of his own value.

Sam swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on the doctor who had just waved at Jack to follow him to the emergency room, ignoring Sam completely. Consciously making an effort to steady his suddenly wobbly knees and clutching at his churning stomach with one hand, Sam pursued the two men, while his eyes never left his brother's pale face.

They rushed through the doors and quickly turned to the next room on their left. Sam hurried after them his anxiety tight in his chest, wiping at the sweat beading his face, only to be held back by a young, pretty, blond-haired nurse. Her name tag introduced her as Nathalie Richardson and she offered a compassionate smile to Sam.

"Sorry. You can't go in there with them."

She explained in a kind voice and Sam felt her honest regret, which relaxed him slightly. Nurse Richardson gently patted his forearm and motioned to the counter.

"Come with me. You need to help me fill in the forms while you wait. I will tell you as soon as hear something about them. I'll need your name and theirs, too for the patients files."

His mind still reeling from the stream of memories, Sam had difficulty processing the required answers.

"Uhm, yeah. My name is Sam. Samuel Jackson." He finally remembered the names on their forged insurance cards.

"My brother's name is Dean. The girl's name is Amy. I don't know her last name. We found her there... by chance...."

Blushing deeply at the big inconsistencies in his story and the lame explanation for his lack of knowledge, Sam dropped his gaze. Dean would have done a much better job at this. He would have fluttered his long lashes and smiled his million kilowatt smile while coming up with a believable explanation. Nurse Richardson however, seemed to credit Sam's behavior to the extraordinarily stressful situation and smiled quickly again.

"Okay then, Sam. Please fill in those forms and bring them back to me. I will let you know about your brother's condition as soon as possible."

She pointed to the waiting area and handed him a clipboard.

Sam resigned himself to the task and slouched off to the chair closest to the emergency room's opaque doors.

****

Over the years, Sam had acquired a vast amount of experience in the inevitable completing of hospital forms. Somehow, it seemed hospitals all over the country followed the same agenda. They asked names, insurance and former illnesses. For Sam, the only changing elements were the names and the insurance companies the Winchesters fooled out of their money. However, the injuries repeated themselves, varying only in seriousness or subject member of the family. Therefore, Sam allowed his mind to wander off to his sick brother while he filled out every bit of the paper on the clipboard. His head shot up every so often whenever the doors separating him from Dean opened. The urge to know about Dean's condition became more desperate every minute and he grew restless at the continuing lack of information.

After ten minutes, he had completed the last item on the form and rose to walk over to Nurse Richardson, who was talking on the phone animatedly. She looked up at the handsome, tall man heading her way and smiled. Nathalie was used to severe injuries as she had been working in the ER since her cadet ship and she enjoyed the work here. However, on meeting Sam and his brother, who was obviously in a life-threatening condition, she had found herself emotionally affected. Somehow, the way Sam had tried to rush after Dean into the room and the desperate look on his face when he was prevented from entering, had struck a chord in her heart and completely negated her, usually, very professional attitude towards family members. Nathalie had watched as Sam had attempted to concentrate on the form, observed as he had ruffled his hair in an unconscious manner until it stood on end at the back of his head. When he had risen from the uncomfortable chair to hand her the form, Nathalie had vowed she would help these young men in every way she could as she was touched by the unusual brotherly bond between them.

"Any news on my brother?"

The tension in Sam's every aspect cried out for information.

"Thanks." She took the clipboard and smiled again.

"No, I'm afraid not. But that doesn't mean anything. The doctors are very thorough. And ... Dean was in a pretty bad shape when you got here. They might still be trying to assess his condition. Don't worry too much, Sam. I'll tell you as soon as I hear something. Why don't you go get some coffee? You seem exhausted."

Dumb-struck at the rapid yet reassuring avalanche of information and compassion, Sam merely nodded and flashed a quick smile at Nathalie in return as he turned on his heels and headed for the vending machine in the waiting area. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and drooped his head, unable to relax without knowing that Dean was OK.

****

Sam literally jumped when he heard a female voice call his name softly but determinedly. Looking up, he recognized Nathalie's face and felt his guts turn to stone immediately. The friendly nurse's face seemed too compassionate, too understanding all of a sudden.

"What? Is he okay?"

Before he could stop himself, Sam started shaking violently and at this sign of weakness in front of a pretty woman his pale cheeks turned a deep red. Sheepishly avoiding Nathalie's sympathetic gaze, Sam rose and straightened to listen carefully.

"Sam, Dean's doctor would like to speak to you. His name is Harrington. He is one of our best trauma specialists and he was appointed to your brother's case directly on your arrival. You might have seen him already. The one you tried to follow?"

She seemed too eager to mollify Sam, for him not to become even more agitated.

_'Trauma specialist? How bad _**is **_Dean?'_

Sam nodded curtly looking towards the still closed doors and headed over only to be held back by the nurse's hand on his forearm.

"Easy, Sam. Not so fast. Dr. Harrington will be with you in a minute. They are still working on your brother. Give 'em time to finish."

Sam rounded on the well-meaning woman and made an effort not to yell at her.

"What's taking them so long? How... Why don't you just tell me how Dean is!" he growled.

Nurse Richardson shrank away from the enraged look on Sam's face. The upset young man emanated an aura of menace and fierceness.

_'Not a man you wanna cross.' _

Maybe she had misjudged him; been lulled by his boyish features and his feelings for his badly wounded brother. She bit her bottom lip, unsure how to pacify the towering man in front of her. However, her years of experience handling worried family members took over and she fell back into her well-trained bedside manner.

"Mr. Jackson. As I told you, the attending doctor will shortly be out and you will be informed instantly."

Noting the sudden switch to his forged last name, Sam's demeanor changed visibly.

He reached out in an apologizing gesture and amended lamely, " I'm sorry, Nurse Richardson. I just... I need to know. Please."

Nathalie nodded apprehensively and gestured towards the door.

"You can wait next to the entrance until Dr. Harrington is ready to talk to you."

Sam sensed his tension ease a little and shot a tiny, one-sided smile at the woman in front of him. Ruffling his brown strands once more, he walked over to lean against the wall. The moment he rested his head against the cool cement another room's double doors burst open and a female doctor and two nurses rolled a gurney at neck-breaking speed towards the elevators at the other end of the hall. One of the nurses was squeezing a hand held respirator bag rhythmically while the other pushed the trolley. The young doctor pushed the heart monitor and every so often shot a glance at her charge. When Sam's gaze found the patient covered beneath the sheets he jerked.

"Amy? Amy!"

Striding over, he tried to catch another glance of the pale, frail-looking form of the young woman. Sam addressed the attending doctor all the while desperate to keep up with their careening roller-coaster ride.

"Doctor, how is she? She okay?"

He was fairly certain that Dean would want to know about Amy when he _(_if_ he... no, no don't think that!) _came to.

"Who are you? Are you family? 'Cos I can't tell ya anythin' if...?"

Cutting across her inquiry, Sam vigorously shook his head.

"No, I... we brought her here. My brother and me, please. I need to know how she is." _'Please, let all this not be in vain. Let her be fine. For Dean's sake. Please.' _

But his prayer had gone unnoticed. As the doctor shook her head compassionately yet insistently, they arrived at the doors of the elevator and they whooshed open to swallow the medical staff and Amy.

"Sorry, Sir. But as I said. Can't do it. You're not family..." She smiled apologetically and the doors slid shut.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Sam let his arms fall to his sides and his shoulders drooped a notch as he registered his defeat. There was only one thing left he could do now. Wait for Dean and his doctor.

So he took up his position next to the room where his brother was being treated once more and tried again to relax his strained nerves. Sam started to hum, copying Dean's favorite method of calming himself. Yet as successful as it usually was for his older brother, it made Sam even more jumpy. For now, the urge to be close to Dean resulted in an overwhelming desperation, which attempted to cloak him with its dark veil. A sensation of suffocation tightened his lungs as panic rose and squeezed at his heart with overpowering, relentless fists.

"Mr. ... uhm ... Jackson?"

Sam was caught off guard by the sudden unfamiliar voice close to him. He had briefly closed his eyes to wage war on his emotions and obviously had completely missed the doctor's approach.

"Ehm, yeah. That's me. Is Dean okay? Can I see him?"

Sam pulled up to his full size, eager to finally be able to talk to Dean again, to touch him, to hear his voice, just to be near him.

The doctor cocked an eyebrow and surveyed the young, harassed-looking man in front of him. He registered the dappled jacket and the sweaty strands of untidy brown hair, noticed the pallor of his face only highlighted by his reddened cheeks, blushed out of agitation and worry for his suffering brother. However, Dr. Harrington was not at all emotionally touched in favor of these two men. Actually, he was seething at the amount of injuries he had been forced to attend to on this young man's sibling.

"Mr. Jackson."

Doc Harrington took a deep breath and let out his bottled up anger at these two alleged bruisers.

"Your brother Dean has managed to get himself shot and to smash his hand. As if that wasn't enough already, he deliberately avoided medical treatment. Instead he chose to be sewn up like a Christmas turkey, no doubt by your unskilled hands."

Harrington puffed out, heaved another gasp of air and steam-rollered on.

"Then, for whatever reason, he reopened the shoulder wound again and poked around a bit. Unbelievably he then tries to stitch that wound up again, not caring for real medical treatment. And you just let him do that!"

The doctor was working himself up, however he never rose his voice. Sam felt threatened and guilty at the tirade. Unable to slip in any comment, he drooped, guilt churning in his guts.

"Now, you come here, crying for help, asking me if your dear, deranged, masochistic brother is okay and if you could see him. Well, honestly, I'll tell you how he is. Your brother is in a septic coma. We resuscitated him twice since he got here and we had to intubate him. He lost an immeasurable amount of blood. His left hand needs surgery to avoid long-term nerve damage. But the worst part is that I cannot allow surgery in his critical condition. So, all we can do is apply sutures – AGAIN – and monitor his cardiac and respiratory functions, keep his fever in check. And one other thing, Mr. Jackson. Let me make this absolutely clear."

The doctor stepped insufferably close to Sam and locked his gaze onto Sam's glistening hazel eyes.

"If your brother, Dean, doesn't respond to the antibiotics we are administering within the next 24 to 48 hours, he'll die."

At that, Dr. Harrington contemptuously turned on his heels, leaving a terrified and deathly pallid Sam behind. Sam swallowed hard and, blinking heavily against the moisture in the corner of his eyes, he moved towards the doors. He had to stoop a little to look through the tiny window and when his eyes found his brother he clutched at the wall for support.

Dean seemed to be entangled in a mass of wires, tubes and IV pipes. His chest was bared and Sam was able to see the dressings wrapped around Dean's mangled shoulder. Sam's breath hitched and he had to stifle a sob. Dean looked so frail as he lay there, his strong body somehow diminished by all the medical equipment. Sam's mind rushed to an unbidden yet seemingly inevitable thought.

What if there wasn't enough time left to free Dean from the deal?

What if he was dying before Sam could find a way out?

~~~~~*~~~~~

_  
To Be Continued_


	13. Picking up the Pieces

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 13/15  
**W********arnings****: ****none**  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N I:** The last 3 chapters of _**Links**_ are pretty long judging by my usual average. I have branched out it seem, heehee. Wrote myself into a trance back then. I hope it's to your liking. Over the process of writing this story I have had a lot of practice in storytelling and I put it down to improved writing skills that the chapters have grown massively... Or at least I pretend that is the reason... *is happily deluding herself*

**A/N II:** ~Dean~ in center, ~Amy~ to the left

* * *

**_Links_**

_by__ RoweenaC_

_Chapter 13: __Picking Up The Pieces_

Sam's weary, red-rimmed eyes scanned the room. He sat on one of the omnipresent uncomfortable plastic chairs next to his brother's bed. In fact, Sam was glad his chair wasn't too comfortable as it kept him from nodding off. He was exhausted, but at the same time felt the need to stay awake and fulfill the role of protector that was so usually Dean's.

Dean had been moved to an IC ward right after they had finished the emergency procedures that his weakened body immediately required. Now, nothing else could be done until he woke up, that was_if_he regained consciousness at all. According to the attending doctor, Harrington, it was touch and go whether Dean would actually survive his septic fever. And even if he did so, there was still no guarantee that he would wake up from the coma.

_'At least not in time to... No!' _

Sam shook his head, strands of unruly brown hair flapping wildly, as the unthinkable seeped into his consciousness. Of course, none of the medical staff knew about Dean's predicament concerning the deal and how little time he really had to make a full recovery. Therefore, they didn't quite understand Sam's feverish urge to have his injured brother regain consciousness. Dean's time was up even if he managed to survive his injuries and Sam still hadn't found a way for him to avoid the looming fires of eternal damnation.

Sam felt a chill run down his spine and shivered despite the moderate warmth in the room. He found himself deliberately avoiding Dean's still, broken form beneath the hospital sheets. His brother seemed unnaturally small and vulnerable, dependent on the medical instruments tying him to the bed. Pipes, wires, tubes, screens, plugs, cannulae, needles.

To Sam, it felt as if the heart-monitor beeped a countdown for Dean's last weeks; a rhythmic reminder that time was desperately short. Making a conscious effort to look into Dean's pale, almost translucent face, a muscle in Sam's jaw twitched. Dean's long lashes shadowed the already too dark skin beneath his closed eyes, freckles standing out against the pallor; cheeks blushed by the high fever adding the only noticeable color to his face. Wincing at the sight of the tube protruding from his mouth, Sam's eyes moved to the bare chest with the clean, white dressings around the shoulder and lingered there for a moment. At least it had stopped bleeding now, though this was probably more due to the lack of movement in his usually ever-fidgeting brother than to proper medical attention.

Although Sam could see shivers rattling Dean's body from time to time, the tremors had subsided to random occurrences, now. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, induced by the lung ventilator, was the only predominant motion. Sam felt a wave of nausea course through his body at that and he squeezed his eyes shut to ward off the ensuing flood of a stream of memories. Dean after the Raw Head. Dean nearly dead after the terrible torture at the hands of the yellow-eyed bastard.

Willing the images and emotions back to a far corner in his mind, Sam returned his attention his brother. Dean would hate the idea of being intubated.

'_He'd be pissed.'_

Sam smiled a lopsided shadow of a smile. Watching Dean disentangle from all those medical contraptions would be a sight worth witnessing. Sam's gaze slid up towards Dean's face and rested once more on the closed eyes, noting their stillness even beneath his closed lids.

_'Not a good sign, no dreams... no sleep. Coma.' _

At that,Sam felt a rush of queasiness welling up and he concentrated on breathing steadily to force the rising bile back down to his stomach.

'_Be strong, for Dean. My time to protect.'_

Allowing these thoughts to become his mantra, he finally found he could breathe evenly and the nausea abated. Sam reached out his hand and took his brother's in his, carefully avoiding the wicked looking needle from the IV bag that bruised its way into Dean's fever-hot hand, and squeezed it gently. He followed a sudden need to be close to Dean, to make physical contact.

****

Floating, drifting on a gentle tide. Relaxation and contentment.

His essence relished the calm and warmth of the place. He didn't even bother to think, satisfied by his mere existence.

Dean had never known perfect rest or peace in his life before and he reveled in it. No pain, no worry could reach him here. He allowed himself to become calm.

The only thing missing was his brother to join him, to heighten his level of utter satisfaction.

A feeling of longing for Sam predominated all of a sudden. Dean attempted to feel around, searching for Sam.

Panic rose inside him and the wonderful feelings of contentment and peace evaporated to be replaced by anxiety, loneliness and worry for Sam.

Trying to look around he made an effort to move his head and was brought up short, when he realized that he couldn't feel it.

Investigating this troubling revelation he concentrated on the other parts of his body. He attempted to move his hands or feet, even fingers or toes, but failed again terribly. Sensing a blasphemous curse building up, he tried to yell.

Nothing.

No sound erupted, lips and tongue refusing to comply.

_~So not a good sign!~ _

Trying to hum, he resorted to his approved method of keeping his panicky emotions from overwhelming him.

However, he found he had no voice at all.

No speech, no movement.

Just thought and emotion.

An existence so completely unlike Dean it terrified him.

He doubled his attempts to reach out for Sam, to find him,

but to no avail.

His panic rose another notch and resulted in a change of his safe and warm surroundings.

Memories flooded his screaming mind. Images swirled around him.

Demons, painful torture, people dying despite his efforts,

his dad, the yellow-eyed-demon,

his mother, fire,

dead Sammy,

hell-fire...

Blackness surrounded him, shrouded him, suffocated him and violently cut him off from the world.

Reduced to voicelessly screaming in the darkness, he noticed a gentle, ever so soft pressure to his right, the place where he would expect his hand to be, _if he still had one, that was_...

He concentrated on this new presence.

It seemed to anchor him, to stop him from falling apart and drifting away.

Dean sensed his panic abating a little and gratefully wrapped his whole essence around the small amount of contact to reality. The mental uproar settled down slowly and Dean let himself float again,...

...yet never too far from his anchor.

****

"Mr. Jackson?"

Sam tried to shake the intruding voice off and slip back into the warmth and comfort of sleep.

"Mr. Jackson! We need to talk!"

There was no kindness in the words. Mere lack of sympathy permeated through the mists still clogging Sam's head. Unwillingly, Sam opened his sleepy eyes and straightened carefully. He had finally fallen asleep, upper torso hunkered over Dean's right arm, his hand still clutching Dean's unmoving right fist. The muscles in Sam's back protested painfully at the movement and, stifling a yawn, he winced slightly when he eventually rose from the chair to tower menacingly over Dr. Harrington's ruthless form in front of him.

Sam shot a nervous glance at Dean to check for any sign of deterioration. He could only think of one reason for the ornery doctor wanting to speak to him: Dean's health.

"Mr. Jackson, you should leave and go home for some sleep after we have spoken. This hospital is no motel." Harrington's forehead furrowed with disapproval.

"I've noticed."

Ignoring the implied command, Sam arched his eyebrows as a sign for the doctor to kick off with whatever problem needed discussing and folded his arms defensively across his chest. His feelings for Dean's attending doctor had only lessened over the last day. The slating and unsympathetic sermon in the ER on their arrival hadn't turned out to be an isolated event. It seemed to Sam that this particular doctor had it in for the Winchesters. Each time their paths crossed Sam had been forced to resort to his best efforts to try and stay calm, concentrating on Dean's well-being, which might be affected by Harrington's mood. Thus, Sam braced himself, anticipating further unhappy revelations and quite likely another telling off.

"We've completed the blood tests and we found something ... _unusual_ in Dean's samples." At the word _unusual_ the doctor's eyebrows rose high up forming almost a right angle on his forehead.

Sam unwillingly mirrored the doctor's facial expression, sensing a feeling of foreboding.

"So?"

Sam pressed his thin lips against each other, forming a tight, bloodless line. He could hardly conceal his worries for Dean, yet tried to put on a stern face. Sam wasn't sure he wanted to hear what the doctor's results would unearth.

Harrington took a deep breath and glanced at his clipboard for assurance.

"There is a ... an odd substance in his blood. Not unknown, though. It's sulfur but in an exceptionally high amount. Not healthy. And it's causing some problems with excessive clot formation that is worrying."

He paused briefly and watched Sam's reaction inquiringly. Yet the tall man merely twitched at the mention of the unnatural presence in his brother's body. Harrington returned to his disapproving demeanor and went on.

"Has he been taking any kind of drugs lately?"

Sam felt his blood pressure hike at the insensitive medic's implied accusation and his compliance reached breaking point.

He exploded.

"So, you want to know if Dean's a junkie? That it?"

He advanced on the doctor and was subconsciously satisfied to see the man back away a step.

"You don't know what's going on, but you accuse Dean of doin' drugs?"

"Well, Mr. Jackson. There simply is no other explanation to the high concentration of sulfur in his system!"

Harrington struggled to regain his composure. These two guys had been weird from the get-go. The mangled shoulder of the older brother and his inexplicably high fever. And now, this young lout accusing him of inefficiency. He considered informing the sheriff. He had to anyway because of the gun shot wound. Sure, Sam had explained that they had been on a hunting trip in the woods and that it had been an accidental misfire. That they had to help themselves because they had been too deep in the forest to get cell phone reception. And at that time Harrington had believed him. After all, this hadn't been the first time that stupid roughnecks had got liquored up on a hunting trip and shot each other. However, in light of the new results, he began to reconsider. What if theses guys were really dangerous? What if they were responsible for the poor girl's condition? Yeah. That could be it. He pulled up to his full height – still a head shorter than Sam though – and focused his eyes on the young man.

"We have to know about any previous medical treatment and drug use to efficiently treat Dean. This presence of sulfur is anything _but_ normal and may well be the reason for your brother's septic fever!"

Sam wasn't listening any more. His mind was racing.

'Sulfur_? In the blood? A virus again? How?'_

And this virus was acting differently to the one they had encountered more than a year ago. It hadn't infected Sam – no surprise there – or any other person who had come in contact with Dean. And, oddly enough, Dean's ability to think and be in control hadn't been compromised. He hadn't become violent, at least no more than usual and not against civilians. The virus had _only_ rendered him mortally ill. But how had it entered Dean's system?

_'The bullet. The wound wasn't healing like it was s'posed to.' _

Always the thinker, Sam excelled at the deductions he had achieved.

_'Friggin' fed. Shot him and infected him.'_

So, it was Lilith again. It seemed almost unbelievable to Sam that the demon queen had planned that far in advance. So, it had been intended that they leave Monument unharmed. She might have even awaited their safe exit. But why? Why not kill Sam instead? Why shoot Dean with a poisoned bullet when Sam had been there, too?

"...ackson?"

"Huh?" He jerked his head up; realising the doctor had spoken to him.

"I asked if there is anything you want to tell me about Dean's condition?"

"Uhm, I don't really know anything other than what I told you..."

His voice trailed off and he cursed his inability to lie as skillfully as his brother. He made an effort to stop his thoughts from meandering off again and focused on the doctor.

"Is there anything you can do for Dean? I mean, now that you know about the sulfur..."

He lifted an eyebrow, hoping against hope.

"Unfortunately we can't; as long as you don't tell us the truth."

Harrington added tersely and turned his back on Sam, heading for the door.

"Hey! Wait... Doctor. You can't just leave me like this. Stop."

Sam followed quickly and grabbed one sleeve of the doctor's scrubs. He pulled and the other man whirled around losing his self-satisfied demeanor for one moment and showing a hint of fear on his face.

"What? How dare you? Lemme go! Security!"

Unable to hide the fear in his voice, it shook slightly and jumped up an octave, sounding like an elderly lady in distress.

"You will not leave us like this!"

Sam's usually soft and gentle voice had taken on a low, menacing growl, not unlike Dean's when he tried to intimidate unruly sources. He pushed the doctor backward against the room's wall and pinned him to it with one strong hand on his neck. Sam leaned in until his face was only a few inches away from the terrified doctor's and he relished the panic he saw there. Considered it reparation for innumerable snide remarks and Harrington's disapproval over the last 24 hours.

"You listen to me, Harrington. I've had it and I'm not putting up with your crap any more. Get some respect in your voice when you speak about my brother. You have _no_ comprehension of what we face on a day to day basis trying to protect the likes of _you_ and be damned thankful that you don't. So stop treating us like we're freaking vermin and do your best to help him. Got me?"

Harrington stared thunderstruck, breathing heavily, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down like a rubber ball bouncing off a solid surface. On their previous encounters Sam hadn't seemed to be dangerous to him. And Harrington had observed that closely as he had one basic rule: only mess with those you can beat. And he had obviously been misled by Sam's behavior. Weighing his own chances in a fight against this clearly physically and mentally strong man, he started sweating profusely.

"GOT... ME?"

Sam repeated his threat and tightened the grip on the man's throat. Finally, hesitantly, the doctor nodded his comprehension and Sam let go of him.

"Fine."

And as if that settled the matter once and for all, he turned back to Dean's bed and settled down in his chair, stretched out one hand and closed it around Dean's still loosely fisted one.

The doctor felt dismissed and, rubbing his reddened throat, hastened out of the room praying inwardly that none of the nurses or orderlies had borne witness to this scene. After all, he had a reputation for being strict and relentless. It would strongly undermine his authority if word of this situation spread among the employees.

****

"Mr. Jackson? Sam?" Sam lifted his head and recognized the ER-nurse from the day before.

"Nurse... Richardson? Oh, hi." Sam rose from the uncomfortable chair regretting the renewed need to let go of Dean's hand. Sam forced a smile that did not quite reach to his dimples.

"Uhm." She seemed similarly flustered and blushed a little. "I... I wanted to check on you ... and Dean. How is he?"

She moved forward; closer to the bed and slid a quick glance at his brother, professionally assessing his condition. The nurse's voice sounded seriously worried when she spoke again.

"He doesn't look so good. What does the doctor say? He getting any better?"

"No. Still a high fever and still unconscious." Sighing under his breath, he was shocked to hear the desperation oozing from his words. This wasn't the voice that had intimidated the doctor earlier. This was a lonely, scared child's voice looking for reassurance. He felt the void inside him that only Dean's conscious presence would fill, aching for replenishment. Blinking heavily at the unwanted moisture in the corners of his eyes he dropped his gaze to his brother's too still form, unwilling to allow his tears to fall. He had to be strong now. Focused and sober. He fought to keep his countenance.

"I'm sorry to hear that. But Dr. Harrington is a really good trauma specialist. He knows what he's doing. Sure, his bedside manner isn't as well developed..."

Her voice trailed off when she noticed Sam's hitching chest. _'Oh, no. He's crying.'_ Feeling her heart go out to him as it had done at first sight the day before, she approached him cautiously.

"Sam. Shsh. He'll be fine. Don't worry, he's a fighter."

Reaching out to gently squeeze his forearm; to offer some physical comfort without invading his personal space, Nathalie allowed her eyes to wander over Dean's terribly scarred chest and knew he had survived similar injuries more often than once. He definitely was a skilled warrior if he had encountered that many assaults and still lived, scars giving evidence to his superior proficiency.

Sam felt his resistance crumble away and let his tears fall freely; however he never lifted his head. He just stood there, relishing her soft touch on his arm and the cleansing, steady flow of the tears he had held back for too long.

****

Sam cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes, feeling a little embarrassed at his obvious moment of weakness after all. It clearly indicated the level of his despair. Sam Winchester had allowed his attitude to waver in front of a complete stranger, in front of a girl for that matter. He had broken one of his dad's precious rules. We do what we have to do and we suck it up! The strain to hang in there, to be strong for Dean had finally taken its toll on him.

"Thanks," he mumbled and licked his parched lips. Sam tried to find an innocuous topic to smooth over the awkwardness filling the room. Usually, Dean could be trusted to be the one to find a way around it. Another unfamiliar responsibility added to the task of protection.

"Uhm. You know anything about Amy?" He asked looking up for the first time; he peered directly into Nathalie's compassionate eyes.

"Anything you are allowed to say?" Sam amended quickly, remembering patient/physician confidentiality.

Nathalie finally decided that she could tell Sam a few facts, just to keep his mind from worrying over his sibling and to lighten his spirits in a way at least.

"She came round from anesthesia a few hours ago. I checked on her as we didn't know anything about her other than her first name and so we couldn't notify her family about her admittance. She's been through a lot and is still very weak. Lost a lot of blood, you see. But they managed to patch her up. She'll make a full recovery. Thanks to you and your brother undoubtedly." She flashed an appreciative smile at Sam and nodded to underline her words.

Sam noticed the warmth and comfort spreading inside him at these words of acknowledgement. So it hadn't been in vain. Dean had managed to save Amy after all.

"Can I go see her?"

"Sure. Why not? I wanted to sit with her for a few minutes, as her family hasn't turned up yet and she might want some company. You can come with me if you want to, but just for a moment. She's very weak still and I know you don't want to leave Dean alone for too long."

Sam's eyes shot back to Dean and he pondered leaving him unattended.

As if Nathalie had read his mind, she suggested: "Why not let me stay with Dean for a while and you go pay her a visit on your own. I've got a few minutes to spare. Amy's in room 392. Two doors to the right. Just don't wake her if she's asleep."

Nodding his agreement, he reluctantly moved away from Dean's side, still seeming fearful of breaking the connection or letting him out of his sight.

He forced himself to leave the room and focused on Amy.

****

Sam's eyes lingered on the heart-monitor beeping an even rhythm for a few moments. Amy was fast asleep, her head lolled to her right shoulder and she breathed steadily on her own. With a pang he noticed the lack of a tube protruding from her pale lips. Amy was obviously better off than her savior.

_'Damn Winchester-luck.'_

Sam winced guiltily at the quick, selfish desire to change their conditions, to see Dean breathing without the respiratory ventilator.

He approached her bed and looked around not sure what he was searching for. She still seemed unhealthily pale and frail but her sleep appeared undisturbed and restful. He smiled a little at Dean's accomplishment. One more life saved. Sam's eyes wandered through the room and he noted the similarities to Dean's despite the obvious lack of the ventilator. IVs stood sentinel at each bedside and helped refill her blood volume as well as administering analgesics and antibiotics.

His eyes brushed over her bedside table and locked on something glittering there. He wasn't able to make out the actual object as it was partly hidden by other things that were obviously Amy's. A pair of jeans with a rusty colored blotch clearly visible near the waistband, a sleeveless top and a t-shirt.

At the twinkle, a sensation of recognition flushed over him, sending shivers through him and sweat began to pour down his back. Unsure why he reacted so strongly, he stood there for a few moments unmoving, eyes switching back and forth between Amy and the bed stand. Frowning, he shook his head at the sudden feeling of foreboding spreading in his guts.

Sam slowly crossed the short distance to Amy's bedside table and picked up the small metal object carefully. It lay in his hand, sparkling innocently, so familiar in weight and appearance. Dean's pendant. It couldn't be Dean's. Sam had safely stored it in the duffel bag in Dean's cupboard. The medical staff had removed the necklace along with his ring, his stained jacket and other belongings when they had worked on him in the ER. When first entering his brother's room, Sam had found a pile of neatly folded clothes on the bedside table and on top of it had lain the ring and Dean's necklace. Torn between his first idea to grab the pendant and check it against Dean's and his qualms about being caught red-handed, he furrowed his left hand repeatedly through his unruly brown hair.

Feverishly looking around, he eventually decided to take the pendant with him; putting aside his misgivings about stealing from an unconscious chick. He had to verify his assumption.

****

Sam stormed into Dean's room, indifferent to possible witnesses, turned to the cupboard to fetch Dean's duffel and rummaged frenetically in it. Eventually, his hand closed around a small, cool item. His eyebrows shot up questioningly when he pulled Dean's necklace from the bag and held it in his right hand. So, there _were_ two of them? Well, why wouldn't there be two? Why should the pendant be unique? He had just never before considered the possibility of others. Presumably, Bobby had bought it some time back from some street hawker selling these things by the hundreds. Could have been fashionable in the eighties, couldn't it?

Sam suddenly felt eyes boring in his back and whirled around. He had completely forgotten about the nurse's presence.

"Ehem, sorry. I had to check something." Kicking himself mentally, he turned and closed the cupboard again, struggling to compose himself.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost, Sam. What is it?" She rose from her sitting position and moved forward, one hand outstretched in a gesture of concern.

Sam shook his head vigorously, trying not to laugh hysterically at her choice of words, and grinned, teeth clenched achingly. He let his hands drop to his sides and shrugged.

"Nothing. Dean's got this necklace. He never takes it off. I only just remembered. So, I fetched it."

His voice trailed off as he noticed his lame explanation. To prove the truth of his action he dangled the leather necklace in front of him, praying she didn't recognize the pendant from Amy's room. Nathalie squinted at the glittering object swaying in front of her inquiring eyes. She frowned and then looked up at Sam again.

"What is it? I've never seen anything like it. Is it gold?" Raising an eyebrow questioningly, she reached out to hold the necklace herself.

However, Sam was quicker and snatched it away, preventing her from getting a closer look. She shot a hurt glance at Sam.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Cutting across her, he shrugged apologetically. "No,_ I'm_ sorry, Nathalie."

"It's a very personal item. He is almost as fond of it as of his Chevy. He'd kill me if anything happened to either." Sam grinned slightly lopsidedly.

"I just want to... It's odd to see him without it. He's had it since we were kids." Deliberately omitting how and why the necklace had come into Dean's possession he made a forward motion.

Nathalie smiled understandingly and moved aside to let Sam step next to the bed again. "That's a sweet idea, Sam. Listen, I've got to get back to work. I will check on you two later, OK?"

Sam tilted his head to lock eyes with her and nodded. Nathalie waved a quick good-bye and headed for the door while he followed her with his eyes.

"Nathalie?"

She turned around.

"Thanks for... you know... uhm."

He blushed a deep crimson at the memory of his breakdown earlier.

"You must think I'm a wuss..."_ 'Dean would think so...'_ he amended mentally.

Nathalie, however, flashed a disarming, sympathetic smile and shrugged.

"No big deal, Sam. Pleasure. See ya."

And at that she disappeared out of the room.

Sam looked down at Dean and then at his hands holding the paired pendants. He frowned, unsure what to do about his discovery, and set out to put Dean's necklace cautiously around his brother's neck carefully avoiding disturbing the ventilator tube. The pendant nestled gently on Dean's sternum and Sam peered into his sibling's pale face, willing some sort of reaction. Nothing. Sam's face fell a little at that.

Would have been too easy. Sam considered the girl's pendant in his other hand for a moment. What would happen if she put it on? Was there really a supernatural element to the pendants or was he just seeing things and jumping to conclusions?

Bobby... Bobby would know. Sam remembered the day the old hunter had presented him with the pendant.

****

_Little Sammy had been crying silently, tucked away between two run-down trucks on Singer's junkyard when Bobby had found him. After asking why the hell he was "hidin' out here" Sam had told him about his dilemma. He had wanted to buy his dad a Christmas present and therefore had taken all his pocket money to school that day. A group of older kids had seen him counting the bills and had jumped him and stolen the money. He had fought like a Winchester but they had gotten away with the money. At that solemn affirmation Bobby had snorted loudly and clapped Sam's back with a bear-like paw. _

"_Now, now. Sammy. Come on. Stop crying. It ain't worth it!" _

_Sammy, however, had sobbed even harder at that. Slightly flustered and embarrassed, Bobby had furrowed his then sandy-colored beard, desperately trying to find a way to brighten Sam's mood. Dean and his dad had gone for the day to practice shooting, so Bobby had been left with babysitting duty. Bobby had been pretty sure the only one capable of soothing the hurt in the kid's heart would have been his older brother Dean. Bobby had cudgeled his brains and finally come up with an idea. He had hoisted little Sammy in his strong embrace, had carried him to his house and settled him gently on the worn out sofa in the living room before disappearing for, what had seemed to the boy like, hours. Eventually, Bobby had entered the room again, triumphant smile broadening his lips. _

"_Here ya go, boy. Look what I found fer ya."_

_Sammy had looked up with his swollen, red-rimmed eyes at the old hunter and recognized that he had had something clutched tightly in his right hand. Bobby had bent down for Sam to catch a glimpse of something golden and glistening in the light of the setting sun spilling into the room. Surprised, Sam's eyebrows had shot up and he had hesitantly reached for the tiny, golden pendant. Bobby had nodded encouragingly and explained. _

"_I bought this awhile ago. Thought you'd like it. Maybe give this to John for Christmas?"_

"_I... I can keep it? But I c-can't p-pay for it." Tears had filled Sammy's eyes again and his hitching breath had interfered with his speech. _

"_No, god no. Sam. Ya don't have ta pay! It's fer free." _

_Gaping at the old man in disbelief, Sam's tears had dried right away and a smile had appeared on his smudgy, chubby face. "For free? Scout's honor?"_

"_Yeah. Scout's honor." Chuckling happily, Bobby had shaken his head and furrowed a hand through Sam's hair affectionately. _

****

Sam smiled deeply at the memory and suddenly had an inspiration. What if Bobby had known the pendant had supernatural powers? Sam considered Amy's pendant once more and headed out in the hallway to call the hunter. He closed the door behind him and turned left to go to a waiting area. Arriving, Sam was glad to see the chairs and benches were empty, hurried over to a chair at the farthest end and pulled his cell from his jeans pocket. He pondered the imminent phone call and its possible revelations. Sighing in exasperation, Sam hit the speed dial button for Bobby's number and waited until a gruff voice on the other end barked a "What the hell, Sam, it's been a while! How are you boys?"

"Hi, Bobby."

And all of a sudden Sam was aware that Bobby didn't even know about Lilith or that Dean was in a septic coma and maybe dying. Sam felt his throat go dry and tight with the effort to keep himself from crying again. He was turning into a sprinkler lately. Shaking his head against the hysterical urge to laugh, he counted mentally backwards from ten, battling another onslaught of panic. _10... 9... 8... _He felt the knot in his chest relax.

"Sam? You still there, boy?"

_7... 6... 5..._ Panic slowly, very slowly, abated.

"SAM? You okay?" Bobby's voice sounded genuinely worried, now. Sam had to force himself to finish his calming exercise, knowing if he stopped now, he would most definitely regret it in a few minutes; when panic would lash out in a counter strike in a moment Sam least expected it.

_4... 3... 2..._

"SAM!" _1..._

"Yeah, I'm here Bobby. Sorry, had to take care of something first." His voice sounded awfully tired and he noticed a hardly audible tremor in it.

"Man, it's good to hear your voice, Sam. How are you? Where is Dean? He didn't answer my calls."

"Bobby, uhm. Listen. I'm in a hospital. Dean..." _'Don't say it, it'll make it real!'_ "... Dean's in a coma. They s-say that he might die."

His voice shook and stumbled a little before steadying again. Sam swallowed hard and he felt sweat beading his forehead and upper lip. His right hand flew to his forehead and brushed away the brown strands there, coming to rest on the back of his head. Sam sighed deeply and continued.

"Bobby..."

"Whoa. Hang on Sam. Dean's in a hospital? What the hell happened to you boys this time?"

Sam was grateful to hear honest worry in the older man's gruff voice, remembering many occasions when Bobby had been more of a father to the Winchester boys than John. Dean, especially, had always been close to Bobby....

"Yeah. We're in Foxville, Nebraska. Listen. Bobby. I need your help. It's really important."

"Nebraska? I'll come over, gimme a few hours!"

"NO! I mean, sure you can come. But I need to know something first, Bobby. Remember you gave me that pendant, as a Christmas present for Dad, years ago?" Sam's voice shook with apprehension this time; he could hear the tension in it clearly.

"Yeah?" Bobby drawled, sudden attention tingeing his voice with a sharp edge.

"Uhm. Is there anything ... you know... supernatural ... about it?" Biting down on his bottom lip, Sam held his breath and waited for the other man to answer.

"The necklace you gave to Dean?" The older man clearly tried to stall, however Sam played along knowing the huge impact a positive answer to his query might have.

"Yeah, you know about any powers?"

"Well, it used to be an amulet of some sort. But, why do you ask? What's going on, Sam?"

Plain concern laced Bobby's voice and Sam felt a sympathetic twinge in his heart for the man. However he felt his heart starting to race at Bobby's mention of the amulet.

"An amulet? What's it for?" Completely ignoring the questions about their well-being, Sam urged on barely controlling his accelerated breathing.

"No, Sam! You answer me first. What the hell is going on?"

"It's... a new demon. She's called Lilith and I think she poisoned Dean. Bobby, he's d-dying."

At long last Sam had to pause and take a deep breath to steady himself. The strain to keep a straight head in order to gather all the information he needed, combined with his emotional turmoil had been audible the moment his breath had started hitching and stumbling over the terrible word...

"Lilith? Poison, huh? Sammy, I'm coming over. We'll talk then." And he hung up before Sam could even start to talk him out of it.

Subconsciously relieved that someone older was taking over responsibility, he still was angry that he hadn't managed to learn anything new about the pendant other than Bobby had called it an amulet. Cursing silently, Sam pocketed the cell phone again and marched back to his brother's room. All there was left to do now was wait. Wait for Dean to wake up. Wait for Bobby to arrive. Wait.

Sam opened the door and winced at the heart-monitor relentlessly beeping the countdown to Dean's life.

~~~~~*~~~~~

_To Be Continued  
_


	14. To Die Would Be An Awfully Big Adventure

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 14/15  
**W********arnings****: ****MASSIVE angst near the end of the chappie... *sobs***  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N I:** Let me just remind you, I did write a death!fic BUT this isn't the one... Though there will be death up ahead... sorta...

**A/N II:** ~Dean~ in center, ~Amy~ to the left

* * *

**_Links_**

_by __RoweenaC_

_Chapter 14: __To D____ie Would Be An Awfully Big Adventure_

Bobby pulled the keys from the ignition and sat for a moment in silent contemplation of the Winchesters and their fate.

_'Damn!' _

As if they didn't have enough on their plates already. The hunter sighed deeply and shook his head.

He wondered if John had known what his sacrifice for Dean would do to the boy's soul.... would he have chosen a different path? Knowing John for a long time, Bobby had learned the hard way that the boys' father was not one to consider the long-term consequences of his deeds. Additionally, Bobby wasn't really sure if John had fully understood the complex man that his eldest son had grown into. Dean was a guilt-ridden, self-loathing young man, ready to sacrifice himself for each member of his family or even for some strangers in mortal peril, if it came to that. The boy had suffered severely from his father's decision to die for his son's health. Bobby had seen the haunted look in the young Winchesters weary eyes. Had seen it and shrunk away from it. Somehow, Dean had been different after his father's death, robbed of his sole purpose to protect his loved ones, his family.

Bobby still remembered the deranged and wild look in Dean's eyes that Sam's death had caused, and could still feel the chill it had sent down his spine. He had felt sorry for the distraught and hopeless young man and had feared for his sanity; so, had been unsurprised by the deal he had struck with the Crossroads Demon. Unsurprised, but saddened by Dean's willingness to bring Sam back in exchange for his own life and soul. He wished Dean would have valued his own life more, wished he hadn't condemned himself to eternal hell-fire.

A sigh escaped the beard-framed mouth again and he steeled himself for yet another chapter in the Winchesters' book of epic woes. Sam had sounded strained, harassed and struggling for his self-control. Bobby hadn't missed the hitch in his voice when he had been compelled to fill Bobby in on Dean's medical condition.

_'What the hell!'_

No point stalling any longer. He owed it to the boys he thought of as his own; to be there to offer his support now when they needed it. Damn, why did that freaking necklace thing have to turn up now! Murphy's Law. If things were bad you could count on them to turn evil if the Winchesters were involved. With a resigned groan he vaulted from the truck and banged the door shut behind him. Masking his apprehension, he marched purposefully towards the main entrance of the hospital, mentally rehearsing his plan for dealing with the issue of the amulet. He needed to have his story down pat if he was gonna keep Sam from seeing he hadn't been told everything about the necklace. Even if that had been years ago, Bobby was certain that if Sam realized that he had been tricked his rage would know no bounds. Even if Bobby had just kept a few details on the amulet's history to himself. After all, Sam had been a kid then.

_'Where's the point in spilling unconfirmed, shady background information to a six-year-old?'_

And now, Sam might be too worried to pick up on the garage-sized loop-holes in the story.

****

Sam sat down again, carefully balancing the poor excuse for real coffee along with his limp Caesar's Salad on his tray. He had only left Dean's room for a quick sprint to the cafeteria to grab some food and a re-fill of his self-prescribed, hourly dose of caffeine to stay awake in case Dean should come to or....

_'No, no, don't go there! Positive thinking, Winchester!' _

His mouth went dry and he swallowed hard against bile rising in the back of his throat.

Hazel eyes assessed Dean's unchanging and exceedingly unnerving comatose state. The freaky doctor had been back a while ago; and he had informed Sam about the lack of response to the antibiotics, causing Sam to swing into full protective mode instantly.

There were only 18 hours left until Dean's reprieve ran out and his system would succumb to the fever's damaging effects unless the antibiotics and the anti-viral stuff finally kicked in. Unless a last-minute miracle happened. Sam felt his eyes brimming with tears again and blinked feverishly against the urge to yield to his frustration and fear. Forcefully tearing his eyes away from the worrisome form lying in the bed next to his chair, Sam concentrated on his coffee, relishing its warmth, yet he screwed up his face in disgust when the tarry bitterness assaulted his taste buds. He gagged a little and smacked his lips to free his mouth from the horrible liquid. His eyes lingering purposefully on his salad, avoiding his brother, he reached out for his food.

In the middle of his flavorless, pre-packaged meal the door was ripped open unexpectedly and Bobby's familiar shape came walking into the room and, without a word of greeting, the older hunter addressed the most pressing matter first.

"How is he?" Concern and apprehension in Bobby's gruff voice invoked the picture of a growling bear defending its cubs.

Sam cringed inwardly as he realized he had to re-tell the doctor's blunt but accurate diagnosis. In a monotonous and deliberately detached voice Sam reiterated Harrington's assessment. He never so much as glimpsed at Dean during his benumbed speech, fearful of the impact the sight might have on him and his unsteady emotions.

"He's stable. But he doesn't... respond to the medication. They are trying some new approach to it. Antibiotics and an anti-viral cocktail. Of course, they don't really know what they're dealing with and there isn't any cure against demonic viruses. Not that _I_ know of."

Sam raised an eyebrow in question, beseeching Bobby to have a solution, some shaman remedy or the like, and so save the day. However, Bobby's face blanched distinctly and he swallowed hard to clear his throat.

"So. He ain't ... he ain't looking good, huh?"

At a loss for words, even words of comfort to the distressed kid pleading for his support, Bobby let his hands drop to his sides and froze. Bobby Singer had always been able to patch up wounds, had even excelled in sutures and minor surgery. If the supernatural had been involved, he usually found the suitable counter measures, like rare antidotes, complex spells or jinxes. Now however, he couldn't come up with anything; just as it had been on a number of occasions over the past months, when Sam had desperately attempted to siphon off Bobby's knowledge about any, albeit random, possibility to liberate Dean from the consequences of the crossroad's deal.

Sam watched his friend's sorrow and despair and it hit him hard, the older man's helplessness enhancing his own and threatening to overwhelm him. But he knew he could not give in to it and he steeled himself, refusing to surrender to the emotional havoc roaring inside him. He needed to find a focus that would help him keep from screaming out his frustration. So, Sam deliberately changed the subject.

"Bobby. About the ... amulet? What can you tell me about it?"

As he spoke his voice took on a steadier tone than he had expected. Glad to busy his mind, thankful for the possibility to do some research, he concentrated his attention fully on the mysterious amulet and its twin; still safely stored away in his jeans' pocket.

Coming out of his reverie, Bobby's head whirled towards Sam's voice and the old hunter swallowed and frowned a little.

"Um. The amulet. Yeah. I can see Dean 's got his around his neck. Where's the other one then?"

Suddenly animated, Bobby advanced on Sam and held out one calloused hand. Sam dug deep into his pocket and pulled out the tiny, golden object and offered it, slightly reluctantly, to the well-experienced man's waiting hand. Bobby's fingers closed around it and held the treasure close to his eyes, examining the piece carefully. Sam bit down on his bottom lip and sucked it in as he waited impatiently for Singer's evaluation of the amulet.

"I'll be damned... It's the real deal, Sam. Sure this isn't Dean's? Sure you didn't mess them up?"

Sam shook his head and stepped closer to Bobby, fixing his wary eyes curiously on the amulet in the man's paw.

"So, does that mean something? You said something about it being a magical amulet once."

Bobby caught Sam's desperate glance and understood immediately that this amulet and its provenance might well be Sam's last hope to save his brother from the inevitable... from.... from his death.

_'Dammit, Singer! Get a grip!'_

He felt the inside of his mouth become dry and Bobby shot a sideways glance at the unnaturally still man, lying deathly pale and unmoving in the intensive care bed. Bobby could only imagine the anxiety Sam was feeling. Watching the only remaining family member slowly slipping away, unable to say a last goodbye, unable to make peace and finally let go. A cold fist clenched around Bobby's heart and squeezed it painfully, sending icy sensations like needle pricks through his whole body.

Returning his gaze to the pendant, he set out to bring Sam up to scratch.

"Well. I bought it from a man who always had interesting stuff to offer. He said it used to be an amulet and that it had a twin. Only, the second one hadn't been seen in decades, maybe even centuries. I put that down as the usual sales talk, you know."

He sighed and shook his head remembering the long past conversation.

"So? Did the guy say anything about its ... powers?"

Sam couldn't keep the hopeful undertone out of his voice. He had intended to sound casual, merely interested professionally, yet he couldn't fight the feeling that there was more to the amulets than met the eye.

Bobby's eyebrows met in a considering frown above the root of his nose.

"Powers? Nah. Not at first though. I was hesitant, y'know. Didn't like the man. Sorta slippery. He tried to string me along, see? So I played along. And he told me about its origin. Said it came from the Middle East. Mesopotamia. Depicts some Sumerian deity. Name's _Utu_. I checked my books before I got here. Knew you'd like to know more..."

Bobby grinned a little sheepishly trying to ease the boy's strained features, to conjure up a dimply smile for at least a fraction of a second. Only he failed dismally. If anything, Sam's face appeared to darken even further.

"A deity?" was all Sam could muster to reply.

He had to refrain from shouting at Bobby to _'Spit it out, dammit!' _The cogs in his brain had begun to whir and click, processing the new input.

Bobby took his cue and continued.

"A sun god. Horned helmet. In Babylonian tradition his name is _Shamash._ According to mythology, he is the protector of the unjustly suffering. The sufferer is to call upon the god to be released from the demon's grasp."

Sam's mouth hung open. _'Unjustly suffering'_, well, if that wasn't the most accurate description of Dean's current state. And that bit about the_ 'demon's grasp'_. Could it be...? It might refer to possession or something. Clicking cogs spun in fevered action.

"Sam? You okay?"

Bobby's voice permeated his buzzing brain and Sam returned instantly to reality.

"Yeah... Guess so. You know why there are two of them? Or where the other had gone all that time? Do they have to be near to act as some sort of .... of conduit?"

The moment he had voiced his speculations, Sam realized that this was actually what those amulets did. They formed a link between the persons wearing them. That was why Dean had seen the girl. The reason why he had been able to talk to Amy. It had worked because, out of sheer coincidence, both amulets had been spatially close to each other. Here in freaking Foxville, Nebraska. At the same time.

_'What are the odds?' _

The revelation threatened to knock Sam off his feet and, with dangerously wobbly knees; he stumbled back to his chair and slumped down on it.

****

Sam opened the door carefully trying to avoid making too much noise in case Amy was still sleeping. He had recovered slightly from the turn of events and the stunning discovery about the amulets' supposed features. However, there was one thing left to take care of. Bobby and Sam had discussed their next moves and had agreed about the need to fill Amy in on her seemingly ordinary piece of jewelery. Furthermore, both hunters were keen to find out how Amy had acquired this supernatural amulet in the first place as it had obviously evaded prying eyes over an extremely long period of time.

Her bed was visible despite the lack of light, highlighted by the heart-monitor's LEDs. Amy's pale face stood out against her blue, hospital-issue nightdress and she appeared to be sleeping. Sam cursed inwardly as he found the urge to speak to her overwhelm his sparsely controlled emotions. Standing in the door frame, he considered going back to Dean's room and returning later, when Amy suddenly moved.

"Who's there?"

Sam nearly jumped at her unexpected question.

Her voice had a slight slur to it and the lingering terror in it hadn't yet vanished completely. She still seemed to be suffering from the torturing events on the farm; at least in her weakened and somnolent state she wasn't able to handle her emotions properly.

Sam stepped closer allowing the hallway's light to rest on his face and commenced. "I'm Sam. I'm Dean's brother. Remember Dean from the ...?"

Stopping short of actually saying the word _farm_ and reminding her of the presumably worst experience in her life, he grinned sheepishly and waited for her reply.

"Dean? Yeah. I remember Dean... Where is he?"

Her last words appeared to have roused her from her drowsiness as she tried to sit up all of a sudden and peered around searchingly. Her hand became entangled in one of the IVs' tubes and Sam advanced towards the bed to help her with it. However, realising his approach, Amy shied away and clenched her fists into the sheets, knuckles turning white with the pressure.

Sam stopped dead and held out his hands reassuringly, palms up.

"It's okay, I'm not gonna harm you."

Waiting for her cue to move on, he paused and looked at her, eyes never leaving her pale and fear-stricken face.

"Sorry, it's just that I... I don't know you. I...where is Dean? What happened? I remember getting out of the ... barn. I think we fell at one time. But after that... it's all just ..."

Her voice trailed off, befuddlement misted her turquoise gaze and she shot up her right eyebrow questioningly. Her breath was still labored and she had to stop every now and then to gasp in and out, each time screwing up her face at the sharp pain in her lower abdomen. Amy moved her hand searchingly toward the burning, stinging sensation and winced as she felt the sore flesh of the sutured gash rubbing against the dressings at the minimal pressure of her hand. She closed her eyes and took another deep, steadying breath. When she finally felt the pain abating, Amy locked her eyes on Sam's worried face again. She nodded and he moved closer to her, biting his lips to keep himself from going like a bull at a gate. Sam smiled weakly and arranged his thoughts.

"Dean is ... he is really ill. He's in a c-coma and has a high fever. Some kind of infection. The medics don't know what to do..."

He swallowed hard against the sob building in his suddenly very dry throat. Sam blinked and licked his lips as he registered the concern drawn on her pallid face. Her eyes widened and she nodded again to make him continue, understanding that there was more to Sam's unexpected visit than simple politeness.

Encouraged by the girl's clear prompt to carry on, he complied.

"Amy, I need your help. I know this is gonna sound weird and I wish I could explain it. But I ... Dean ... we don't really have the time."

He fumbled in his jeans' pocket and pulled the amulet from it, placing it on his flat palm.

"Amy, I found this with your belongings."

His eyes switched quickly between the small, golden object and her uncomprehending face.

"What? It's my grandmother's. She gave it to me when she died. Said it would help me fulfill my destiny." Her eyes took on a faraway look when memories came flooding back in quick succession.

She smiled, quietly reliving the happier moments with the only person in her family who had ever understood her urge to be more, to strive for the optimum and for the exceptional, to reach for the stars. Gran had realized that Amy wanted to be special and had always defended her in front of her parents. In the end, however, after college and a dose of "real life" when her fiancé cheated on her and she had been fired from her dream job as a forensic anthropologist, she had finally yielded to her beseeching parents. This was when she had started a "normal" career as a teacher. Amy truly loved this job, yet she had never really given up on her heart's desire to achieve something more, something unusual.

These thoughts and memories of her grandmother and her once idealistic aims in life all came back to her now, tore at her heart and soul, ripping through her in her enfeebled condition. Her eyes began to water and she felt her chin quiver slightly at the impending sob. Amy stifled the sound and swallowed, tilted her head away from Sam and pressed her lips together.

Sam waited. Watching as her facial expression had changed quickly from nostalgic happiness into a mixture of loss and hurt. He hated himself briefly for aggravating her condition by conjuring up painful memories. Therefore, when Sam felt she had regained her composure distinctly, he attempted to apologize.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She acknowledged his excuse, inclining her head toward him and cleared her throat.

"You didn't. Hurt me, I mean. It's... my Gran was a wonderful person." Amy paused.

"So, did your grandmother say anything about how the amulet got into her possession or how it was to help you find your... destiny?"

Sam had started at Amy's mention of her grandmother's meaningful words. Could it be that the old woman had known something or had it just been a figure of speech?

"It's a family heirloom, I suppose. I never asked. My mother didn't approve of the necklace and never really understood what it meant to me."

Amy cringed as the memory of her mother's dismissive scowl flashed behind her eyes. The way Mom had rolled her eyes and shaken her head disbelievingly at the sight of her own mother's last gift to her only granddaughter.

Sam's shoulders drooped a little as he comprehended that there would be no further information on the necklace's whereabouts since its disappearance. However, there were other matters to sort out.

"Amy, did you ... did you wear it all the time when you were in the barn?"

Sam held his breath expectantly. This was the crucial point. It all came down to this, if they were wrong in their assumption it could very well mean the end of Dean.

_'No... don't go there now. Focus on the amulet. FOCUS! Don't be such a wuss, Sammy!' _

Sam shuddered and nearly jumped as he recognized that his angst-ridden mind had chosen his brother's low, commanding voice to call him to his senses. How was it that Dean always knew how to keep Sam's thoughts on the more pressing matters, preventing him from zoning out?

"I... huh?"

The quick change of topic caught Amy off guard and she paused again to process Sam's query.

"Yeah, I always wear it. Have done so ever since my Gran died when I was ten. Why? Why is this all so important? What are you trying to find out, Sam?"

Her voice was still laced with both physical and emotional pain, yet her eyes peered warily and attentively into his and she pushed herself into a slightly more upright position, wincing at the stabbing ache assaulting her belly.

The frustrated scientist in her found herself drawn to the mystery Sam was unfolding before her. The riddles of human remains, of forgotten lives, had driven her former choice of career. Nearly buried under every-day problems, the events of the recent days had excavated those instincts slowly and painfully, had revived the sense of wonder in her. Inquisitiveness, sheer and utter curiosity replenished her depleted energy stores and she felt a flush of adrenalin course through her body, numbing the pain, and improving her alertness.

Sam was amazed by the amount of pain the woman obviously endured without a word of complaint and he noticed that this ability had probably kept her alive during her torture at the hands of Lilith and her minions; had kept her sane. Wondering how much this skill reminded him of his dying brother he wasn't surprised when he felt tears welling up again. The urge to return to Dean's side, to sit with him, to form a physical bond was overpowering and his vision tunneled for a fraction of a second until he found the strength to force some air into his protesting lungs again.

"Dean has a similar amulet."

He let out his breath in an audible sigh and held her gaze apprehensively.

"Oh." Her lips formed a circle underlining the sound she had made and her investigative skills whirred into motion.

"You obviously think this is significant. How?"

Surprised at the lack of disbelief and animated by her inquiry he continued.

"Well, if your amulet is the real deal, the counterpart to Dean's, I thought there might be a connection between them. That they might have formed a similar link between you and Dean, when you were sleeping or unconscious."

Sam looked at her, waiting for an incredulous laugh or a snide remark on her part. Yet, she stared into his face, clearly considering his idea. Her face was screwed up into a contemplative frown, the top of her tongue slightly visible in the left corner or her mouth, like a child concentrating on a demanding task.

"How?" was all she asked again.

"That's what I'm not too sure about. All I know is that Dean's is real. It depicts a Sumerian or Babylonian god and is said to have special... properties if brought together with its ... twin."

Sam heard how his voice mirrored the desperate urge to both persuade and apologies; and he laughed at his own awkwardness, a small sound, half-hearted and helpless, and looked down, avoiding her intent gaze.

"What deity?"

Sam's head jerked upward, sending a hot stab from his neck to the back of his skull at Amy's unexpected question.

"Huh?" Mouth hanging open, eyes wide he gaped at her. _'Surreal.'_ He composed himself slightly and replied, "Utu."

"The sun god. Hm...", she nodded acquiescently. "Fits. The horns."

"How?" was all Sam could muster, echoing Amy's questions hollowly.

"How do I know this? I used to work as an anthropologist. During college I took some courses in archeology. I have a thing for mythology. The stuff sort of sticks in my mind. I could slap myself for not seeing it earlier. I think I never even considered the pendant to be something that old."

When Sam didn't react she went on, "So, you think this is the real deal? This really works? I mean, like _magic_?"

Amy surprised herself a little at that. A few days back, before the demons, she would have never dreamed of accepting something as unscientific as magic or charmed amulets. She sniggered softly and the sound brought Sam out of his reverie.

"I hope. Listen, Amy", Sam started suddenly bustling. "I'd like you to... uhm... put the necklace on again...."

His explanation was cut short by Amy's quick pick up.

"And if I go back to sleep you want me to reach out to Dean? To tell him... what exactly?"

Her eager tone quickened Sam's heartbeat and he felt more confident than he had done in a long time. _'This could work, this could actually friggin' work!'_ He felt jubilation bubbling within him as the possibility of contacting Dean became more real and he hastened to answer her.

"Tell him to hang in there. And tell him that I'm figuring out how to beat this bitch."

"That's all? So, you don't have a real plan?" Amy sounded honestly disappointed.

"Don't you guys do this ... this demon slaying... thing all the time? And this is what you come up with? Sorry, Sam. I don't mean to be an ass here, but shouldn't you have a plan first?"

_'What is it with everyone asking me if I have a plan? It's Dean who comes up with them. I just do the research, dammit. I'm his sidekick geek-boy while he goes in swinging and kicks some freakin' demon ass!'_

Sam's mind screamed frantically as the inadequacy of his preparations stood out strongly, highlighted by Amy's honest, yet devastating, comments.

"It's hunting. And yeah, we're doin' it for a living. Thing is, it doesn't really pay out as the people we save can't wait to see the back of us usually, so they can return to their oh-so-normal, well-situated lives once they're safe! Never thanking us, never even bothering about us..."

His voice had taken on a low rumbling tone, which Dean would have associated with impending verbal sparring matches between John and Sam.

Amy, however, simply watched how Sam's normally gentle, handsome features were distorted by a spasm of rage and hardly contained aggression, how his soulful eyes turned hard and relentless, sending out fiery sparks.

She sensed compassion and concern welling up inside of her for the brothers and her own anger was fueled simply by the change that had just occurred in the desperate, young man's demeanor. Her fury at fate and its iniquitous way of messing with the men's lives increased to the brink of intolerability. Yet she remained silent, observant, aloof. Instinctively comprehending that Sam would snap out of his sudden fit of wrath once he had voiced it. Amy attributed his reaction to the desperate situation and he was apparently barely holding it together. Sam appeared to be virtually balancing on the edge of a steep cliff and at its foot, an ocean of despair and hopelessness ate at the rocks crumbling away with every new wave, every new inequity thrown at the man. Her eyes filled with tears at Sam's predicament.

"I'll do it." It was all Amy could offer, her voice hoarse with emotion.

****

Dean was searching, mentally seeking his point of orientation in the darkness surrounding him completely. All of a sudden the chain cable linking him with reality, rendering stability had vanished leaving him unprotected. Tossed and turned by an invisible yet strong current pulling him further away from life, away from Sam, he sensed his power to struggle against the undercurrent diminishing.

He would yield to its force in the end. He knew it and it terrified him.

Heat flushed his system, burning, eating away his rationality leaving his vulnerable soul unprotected and bare, rattling at the carefully erected walls around his emotions.

Panic held sway over every fiber of his essence.

However, a change in the sucking, drowning sensation attracted his attention. Somehow the pull seemed to ignore a small part close to him. Like an island in a roaring ocean the spot was untouched by its force. His whole being focused on the quiet, calm sanctuary leaning toward it as if his life depended on it. '_Which might actually be true.'_ Reason commented, sarcastically.

Emotion neglected this insertion and reached out for the new and vital presence.

It felt familiar.

Yet, he was still blinded by darkness and muted by the silence surrounding him. Incapable of hearing above the roaring panic inside his own mind.

He sensed himself being sheltered by _her_ presence.

A quick glimpse crossed his mind's eye. A girl lying on a makeshift bed, bleeding.

_~Amy?~ _

In his mind he voiced her name, attaching a picture of his own memory of her, deathly pale and clinging to his strong chest, holding on for dear life.

An affirming sensation flowed around him, gently caressing his essence. He relaxed and bathed in the warm sentiment, panic abating a little.

_~How?~_

His desperation laced his query, expressing his need to understand her unexpected appearance.

A flash of Sam's worried face flooded around him followed by a twinkle of a tiny golden object. Unwilling to let Sam's desperately longed for face vanish, Reason battled Emotion. And returning to its former predominance, Reason defeated Emotion. Dean focused on the glistening spot in the smothering darkness.

The necklace.

He reached out to Amy in confusion.

She replied with a memory of herself as a child being bequeathed it by her grandmother, followed by a more recent glimpse of her, watching herself in a mirror subconsciously playing with the amulet.

Dean's thoughts and emotions swirled around him in a maelstrom of comprehension. He had seen the glittering pendant dangling around her neck. He just hadn't made the connection. Even during their first contact, how ever brief it had been, he had recognized something flashing brightly on her chest, blinding him for a fraction of a second, sending his car fishtailing into a tree.

Dean concentrated on conjuring up an image of a rope linking two persons by the wrists.

The affirming sensation encircled him more tightly.

Baffled by the revelation, he attempted to estimate the worth of this information, the possible use of the discovery.

However, Reason was impossible for Dean to grasp onto as Pain and Fear clouded his thinking and he molded his desperate need for Sam into pictures of Sam's worried face and pushed them vigorously toward the essence that was Amy.

_~'Jeeze Winchester, what are you doing? Baring your soul to a chick?'~_

He cringed, thinking what she would think of her tough, heroic savior now.

Stripped of his defenses and fighting for coherent thought, Dean was unable to hide his need from the girl's soft soothing presence.

Amy answered with the previous picture of Sam's worried, harassed face and amended a reassuring sensation as she understood that Dean's urge to protect his brother was as deeply engraved in his character as it was in Sam's.

She was overwhelmed by the loving bond between the brothers, their own link; intertwining their souls on a deeper, more emotional and primal level than hers with the older brother. Deeply moved by their despairing efforts to ensure the other's safety and well-being, her heart melted and she realized her connection to Dean waned at her loss of concentration.

Quickly, she resumed her focus on Dean sending him another comforting, soothing emotion and begged him to fight for his own life. She used a picture of him showing his strong set jaw, eyes concentrating on the matter at hand, teeth clenched against the cry of pain building up inside him as Lilith held him pinned in the air. She had admired his strong will at that moment and Amy wrapped this feeling around her message, enhancing and underlining the desperate demand to prevail, to hang in there.

The resulting answer shattered her self-restraint to the deepest foundations, as a stream of pictures depicting combat scenes and hurt people, expanded by inconceivably sad feelings, assaulted her mind and soul abruptly.

Dean's writhing emotions had reacted instinctively. Associations of his past rolled in on Amy like a life-threatening, self-destructive tsunami as Dean was incapable of keeping them behind the, finally collapsing, walls of his mind's fortress.

A blond woman was standing in a living room, fire burning around her like petals of a rose, a look of pure longing and motherly love on her face, beautiful and heart-wrenching.

A girl plastered to a ceiling, flames licking at her pretty face and form, an angry red gash grinning in her abdomen.

A dark-haired, handsome man in his late forties, or maybe early fifties, lying in a hospital bed, medics working on him to resuscitate his lifeless body.

The same man, eyes opaque with an otherworldly yellowish color, sneering and taunting, torturing.

Sam, pale with a bluish tinge to his skin, lying on a pallet,

mortally still.

The dark-haired man observing the on-looker with a harsh and unforgiving expression on his face while cradling a small boy of perhaps five in his arms.

A funeral pyre blazing wildly, devouring a swathed human form.

Sam being stabbed from behind; crumpling forward into strong arms, the life in his eyes being snuffed like a candle, a look of utter astonishment lingering in his features.

The swirl of memories and emotions peaked in a soul shattering, devastating roar of despair and refusal.

_~No more!~_

Amy reared backward, pulling away subconsciously from Dean, the origin of these agonizing flashes, to preserve her own soul from the excruciating and haunting onslaught.

****

Her head jerked up and Amy clutched her right hand protectively to her chest while her left hand fumbled feverishly for the call button. Something was going terribly wrong, she sensed it. Dean's last reaction had been too final. She needed Sam, had to tell him. The heart-monitor beside her bed beeped wildly, echoing her quickened pulse, and even if nobody reacted to her summons she was sure a nurse would be checking her vitals soon, alerted by her unusually high heart-rate.

_'Friggin' button!'_, she cussed silently, all too aware of the shortage of time. Finally, her sweaty fingers closed around the little object and relief encompassed her anguished soul.

****

The room was uncomfortably bright, all lights switched on and a crowd of medical staff huddled around Dean's prone form while Sam and Bobby had been ushered to the wall furthest from the bed.

Both hunters were reduced to waiting and watching after they had flat out refused to leave the room, to bear witness, as Dean's life literally hung on by a mere thread, a cable, linking his survival to the defibrillator. Sam still gaped uncomprehendingly, his geek-boy mind for once unable to process the sudden events. Bobby however, bit down on his bottom lip until his teeth left bloody crescents there and compulsively clenched and unclenched his fists; mirroring the rhythm of the defib's paddles attempting to shock Dean's heart back into life.

Sam was unaware that he was whispering Dean's name repeatedly; as if conjuring up his brother's life-force and his will to survive. Numbly, he observed as his brother's back arched spastically again and the young resident desperately recommenced chest compressions, counting the attempts loudly. Sam winced as a rib cracked audibly; still ignorant of the tears soaking his pallid cheeks, let alone his hitching chest and the erupting sobs tearing at Bobby's worried heart.

"One more time." The order was clearly audible over the chaos of sounds and movements as the young doctor reached for the defibrillator.

Sam made one step forward before his wobbly knees buckled and the world tilted on its axis, a myriad of stars exploding in front of his tear-blurred eyes. He would have landed face first on the linoleum if Bobby hadn't been keeping a watchful eye on the younger man next to him.

"N-no...", he stammered, chin quivering. Bobby caught him in his strong arms, hugged him to comfort him as well as to keep him upright.

Watching Dean's body arch spine-breakingly, Sam yelled, sudden anger lending his voice strength and volume and his roar boomed around the room.

"DAMMIT, Dean! You fight it! You're not leaving me like this! I'm not letting you!"

Bobby's skin erupted in goosebumps as he heard the familiar harsh, commanding tone of John Winchester coming out of his youngest son's mouth and at the same time infinite love mingled with the hard words, crushing Bobby's heart and forcing him to stifle a compassionate moan.

The room turned unnaturally quiet, the silence assaulting everyone's ears as medical staff, Bobby and Sam strained to hear the heart-monitor indicating Dean's pulse. The moment seemed to stretch painfully into hours until .... eventually an electronic _beep _followed by another and another filled the silence.

_______________________________________________________________________

**End Notes:**

**A)** I couldn't bring myself to put in a cliffhanger here... was massively tempted though! *snickers viciously*

**B) Utu/Shamash** is a deity from Babylonian and Sumerian tradition. I did some research on gods from the Middle East and found that this god seems to be depicted in Dean's necklace. However, I don't claim to know it for certain. This isn't a scientific essay, so please don't tell me off for using it and bending it to fit into my story.

**C)** The title is a quote taken from the novel **Peter Pan** (one of my favorites).


	15. Savior of the Unjustly Suffering

**T********itle****:** Links  
**C********haracters****: **Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC  
**G********enre****:** hurt/comfort/angst  
**R********ating****: **PG 13  
**C********hapter****:** 15/15  
**W********arnings****: ****MASSIVE angst and death**  
**S********ummary****: **Set right after **Jus In Bello..**. AU from there on...

**Usual disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

**A/N I:** There is a death in this one. So, prepare yourselves for it. It's the last one. And again, like a year ago, I feel a little sad now that it is over. I really liked writing it in the first place. But reading it and re-editing it, receiving your kind reviews were the best parts. Thank you for following me through to the end. I am planning to do a sequel over the summer. Other readers on UnGen and and LiveJournal have asked for it. As soon as End of the days is done I will start working on it and figure out if there are enough loose ends to make a story from.

**A/N II: **~Dean~ in center, ~Amy~ to the left

* * *

_**Links**_

_by RoweenaC_

_Chapter 15: Savior of the Unjustly Suffering_

The moment the last remaining nurse left Dean's ICU-room, Sam gasped out the deep breath he had been holding far too long, if his tunneling vision was anything to go by. He blinked at the blurriness clouding his puffy, hazel eyes and then returned his gaze to his brother's comatose body, his right hand cradling Dean's cold, and surprisingly small, fist. Sam's head throbbed and he recalled the conversation with the young attending doctor after Dean's condition had been stabilized for the time being.

_Severe oxygen deficit. _

Swallow. Breathe. Numbness.

_Probable long-term effects to the brain._

Swallow. Breathe. Numbness.

_Might never wake up again, Mr. Jackson._

Swallow. Breathe. Numbness.

Bobby's comforting hand alighted on Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently until the distraught hunter glanced reluctantly away from Dean's face and into Bobby's apprehensive, blue eyes.

"A nurse just told me something, Sam. You know, while I went out for some coffee?"

The gruffness in his voice more pronounced than usual, he motioned to the tray resting on the nightstand carrying two plastic cups of hot, liquid energy.

Sam blinked, no reaction, no change in the catatonic look marring his usually vivid, expressive face. Bobby had to shake the sudden feeling that both brothers appeared to be in a deadly coma; not _just_ the one lying in the bed with all those freakin' tubes sticking in every orifice and every vein; administering vital fluids, drugs and air.

Expecting no further reaction, Bobby continued, his soothing hand never leaving Sam's shoulder.

"Amy called for a nurse, asked if you could come and see her. She seemed to be very upset. Worried about... Dean. The nurse had told her that she'd pass on whatever Amy wants to tell you. But Amy insisted on seeing you ASAP."

Bobby observed Sam's face closely before he went on.

"You feel up to it? I could go..."

Finally pulling out of his stupor, Sam shook his head.

"No... No, I'll go. Could you... could you just sit with Dean, while I'm with Amy? I don't want him to be ... alone. Not after the last time."

Sam's insides churned as he unwillingly remembered his previous coffee run. He had returned from Amy's room an hour before and had sensed fatigue threatening to overwhelm him.

The moment he had opened Dean's door after returning from the cafeteria, he had known something had been terribly wrong with his brother. An icy hand had gripped Sam's heart, attempting to rip it out, and the little hairs on the back of his neck had risen, inducing an unnerving prickling sensation. It had been too familiar. A sense of deja-vu had hit him full force. The sickening similarity to the day he had found his dad lying on the floor of another hospital...

Just at that moment, he had been smashed against the door frame as a large ICU-nurse had barged past him calling, "Code blue" over her shoulder. And then all hell had broken loose...

Sam shook the memories off, rose from the chair and said in a toneless, weary voice, "I'll be quick. Call me if..."

Sam glanced at Dean briefly, then refocused on Bobby, leaving the sentence incomplete, drifting through the silent room.

Bobby simply nodded and took up Sam's vacated chair fixing his attention on the pale man beneath the sheets, the man he had come to love as if he were his own son. He reached for Dean's hand and held it softly, noticing the callused skin and tiny scars populating the back of the younger man's hand.

Sam watched them silently, suppressing the urge to push Bobby unceremoniously from the chair and to reclaim his former post; as continued concern for Dean and jealousy at Bobby's close contact with him waged war against his better judgment.

Sam knew he had to talk to Amy. For Dean's sake. For his own. Therefore, forcefully pulling his gaze away from Bobby and Dean, he turned and headed for the door, refusing to listen to the internal voice compelling him to stay, not to leave his sibling alone again or to suffer the consequences.

****

Amy's head jerked toward the opening door anticipating the appearance of Sam's face in the door frame. She wasn't disappointed, however the hurt and angst emanating from the lanky man shocked her and confirmed her worst fears. Something terrible had happened to Dean. Dean's reaction to her last contact had been horrifying and Amy could see the impact on Sam's haunted face.

"What happened?"

She pulled herself up against the slightly raised upper end of the bed, turquoise eyes peering intently into the young hunter's weary hazel gaze.

Sam's shoulders drooped distinctly, as he had feared this question above all else. Being forced to reiterate Dean's mortal struggle, inevitably resulting in his premature exile to hell, forced Sam to painfully relive the terrible ordeal again. Numbness spread throughout his mind and soul again and he welcomed it as it balanced the panic a little.

"Cardiac arrest. They had to shock him. Three times."

Sam was surprised by the lack of emotion in his voice, contrasting as it did with his internal anguished screaming.

Amy's hand flew to her mouth, muffling her terrified, "Oh god." She swallowed hard against the lump in the back of her throat before she continued.

"I knew something was gonna happen. He was in such pain."

Seeing the look of utter despair in Sam's eyes at her words she sensed she had to elaborate or risk the man falling apart completely.

"I contacted him. Only it was different to the previous times. I couldn't see or speak to him. It was like Dean was enfolded in a black cocoon. So we communicated on a purely emotional level. I know how it sounds but it's hard to describe. Near the end I felt him surrender. All those memories, the hurt, the pain. You know how much he hates himself, Sam?"

Sam blinked. Swallowed. Nodded.

His whole being yearned for his sibling's recovery, for some snarky remark, a prank, even a painful moan. Some way of knowing that Dean was still there, hadn't left him forever. However, the evident agony his brother seemed to be in currently left him hating his selfish desires... If Dean was incapable of mastering his emotions he was definitely close to death. Even the cardiac arrest hadn't pointed that out as clearly as Amy's account of her attempt to connect to Dean.

Panic ensnared Sam, tearing at his heart, clawing at his soul. Feverishly thinking about means to save Dean, he started as Amy's tentative voice sifted through the cloud of angst wrapping around his being.

"Sam? I'm sorry, but I had to tell you. He is in grave danger. I'm not sure he _wants_ to wake up any more."

"No! No. So not gonna happen. He has to wake up. I'll... I'll find a way. There has to be a way!" Trying to evade his better judgment, mocking him as it alluded to the - so far - futile efforts to liberate Dean from the horrendous deal, he shook his head once insistently.

"Sam, I could try to persuade him. Or maybe you could, if I gave you my amulet." She reached for the necklace only to be stopped by his outstretched hand.

"No, I don't know how to use it. There isn't enough time."

She agreed, and then quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"So, I'll try and talk him out of it again then? Any ideas on how to do it? He seems a very stubborn person judging by the defiant way he fought Lilith in the barn."

Sam's smile illuminated his sorrowful face, restoring his youth and good-looks for the blink of an eye.

"Yeah, he can be a bull-headed pain-in-the-ass sometimes." Sam pondered Amy's request for suitable reasons.

"Tell him, he can't leave me behind. Yeah, I know how it sounds. But that's the best argument. He... he'll never leave me unprotected."

Amy nodded her head, pressing her lips together until they formed a thin, bloodless line. She was touched by Sam's obvious disgust at the need to resort to tricking Dean, by manipulating his ingrained instinct to protect his baby brother.

"Okay, I'll try it... One other thing though, Sam. While I was waiting for you, I contacted a friend from college, he's an archaeologist. I asked him about the deity. He said that the Mesopotamians believed Utu/Shamash to be the savior of people suffering from injustice. You knew about that, right?"

Sam nodded gravely surprised and moved by her ambition to help them. He waited for Amy to go on, sensing she had found out something important.

"My friend mentioned an incantation, a kind of prayer the sufferer is to use. It all comes down to a simple and truthful call for assistance and the god will offer his powers to the praying person. However, the person in dire need had to be _pure and tainted, feared and loved_, at the same time. And then there was something about _two lives are one, living off each other's sacrifice_... whatever that means. So I thought, well... I guess, praying isn't a bad idea, huh?"

Sam looked up into her sensitive gaze, and nodded.

****

Amy reached out for Dean's presence, stretching and seeking. However, somehow his essence eluded her grasp every time she was close to establishing a link. To her, it felt like Dean purposefully evaded her efforts this time.

She called out mentally, filling the request with all the urgency she could muster, amending a memory of Sam's worn-out, resigned face.

_~DEAN!~_

_~Leave me alone!~_

A terrifying glimpse of Dean brandishing a bloodstained knife at an unseen adversary underlined his retort.

_~No, I won't leave. Not until you hear me out.~_

Her compassion, her admiration for him suffused her determined reply.

Another menacing stream of pictures flooded back at her, leaving her breathless.

_~Dean. Sam sent me; he wants you to know that he needs you. You can't leave him.~_

Amy sent her memories of the short conversation with his brother into the impenetrable, suffocating darkness ahead of her.

No reaction this time.

Unsure whether this meant Dean simply refused to answer or that she had finally made an impression and he was listening, Amy put her money on the latter and continued.

_~If you go, you'll leave Sam behind unprotected. No big brother to save him.~_

Disgusted by her own audacity, she conjured up the terrible memories of Sam's lifeless body, Sam being stabbed, memories Dean had cast at her trying to push her back during their last contact.

A wave of his violent despair and hatred rolled over her; attempting to choke her, yet she steadied herself and, mustering all the strength she possessed, Amy reached out yet again.

_~Dean?~_

Amy felt Dean's will to fight her abate abruptly and sadness, a deep feeling of loneliness, filled the black void around her, breaking her heart and splitting her soul in half. His emotions resonated agonizingly within her own heart, crushing it.

Softly quivering as if blown by a mild breeze, the picture of a small boy curled up in his parents' king-size bed swam to her. The boy's sad, green eyes spoke volumes of loss, unrequited love and disappointed trust in the good.

Amy felt tears rolling down her cheeks when she mentally moved in closer. She held out her hand toward the boy, beckoning him to her. Proving her hunch right, the boy reacted and rose tentatively from the bed, rubbing at his puffy eyes with both palms.

_~Dean? Here, let me help you.~_

Walking out of the memory, the pale boy floated in the nothingness surrounding them, his back against the impenetrable black wall.

Fear contorted his round, freckled face, his pout pronounced by his battle against the impending tears brimming in his large emerald eyes. The smudges beneath his eyes were moistened anew when the salty liquid finally streamed down his pallid cheeks.

_~I'm so sorry, Dean. Oh god. What happened to you?~_

Surprised, Amy realized she could really talk to the child without resorting to memories or feelings as the boy tilted his head upward to look at her; listening silently, unsure whether he could trust her. She smiled encouragingly at the boy, prompting him to voice his deepest desire.

_~I wanna go home...  
Please, can I go see my Mommy, now?~_

His chin quivered with every word while he watched her beseechingly, hiccuping slightly. Compassion and the primal instinct to protect an innocent child opened her heart widely to the lost and lonely kid; and she hunkered down, her face at his eye level. Amy spread her arms; inviting the scared child to throw himself into her sheltering embrace. Hugging him, comforting him through his desperate sobs, she sensed her own tears slowly ebbing away.

Amy found herself praying for the poor boy in her arms, empathizing with the child who had obviously hidden behind the strong, unwavering masks of a heroic hunter and big brother. The terrible ordeal of his medical condition had stripped Dean of his armor, layer by layer, until only the little, scared boy had remained, unprotected and defenseless.

How much could a person endure until they broke irreparably?

Was there still a chance to save Dean, to make him see sense and purpose in his life?

Amy prayed wholeheartedly for the child's sake and for the self-sacrificing man, her savior, who had exchanged his own well-being for hers without a second thought.

_~Please, God. Make him realize how important he is.  
If I could I would give my life for him.__  
It's not fair, he's suffered enough, he's given enough.  
Please, make him see some sense. __  
Make him feel how much Sam loves him,  
how much he means to his brother  
and what a wonderful person he really is.~_

The small child in her arms disappeared so suddenly that Amy was almost pitched to the floor. She peered around, stunned. Her gaze locked onto a newly created gap in the towering, now solid, black wall in front of her and she headed toward it; unsure of what might lay beyond, yet desperate enough to find Dean, to save him.

Covering the distance was easier and a lot faster than she had anticipated and thus, Amy found herself standing in front of a fissure in the solid fabric giving way into another sphere of what Amy had come to think of as Dean's soul. Steeling herself against every imaginable event, contemplating shortly that the Winchester-scale of "imaginable" might surpass her own by a considerable length, she moved through.

Light was sparse in this place, yet it was sufficient to show her a cowering form a few steps away from her. Amy turned toward the shape and advanced slowly, alert.

Approaching her target, she recognized Dean's broad shoulders and the back of his neck and another terrified stab at her heart left her staggering for a moment when she noticed how his shoulders were rocking and shuddering convulsively.

He was crying silently,

face averted,

shadowed by the half-light around him.

Even inside his own mind he hid his tears, hid them from himself as if they were despicable, something to be ashamed of.

Amy waited until she had regained her composure a little and attempted to rouse him to her presence; fearful of making him feel embarrassed and thus pushing him further back inside himself away from life, away from Sam.

Yet, Amy couldn't deny that she was scared at the same time that he might attack her, mistaking her for an enemy, an unwanted intruder. This man wasn't the small, harmless boy she had cuddled before. He was a skilled hunter, a warrior, trained for combat.

_~Dean?~_

A quiet voice, hardly audible yet it caught Dean's attention. He pulled himself upright almost rigidly as if to brace himself to engage an advancing attacker, hunter senses deeply imprinted in his soul.

Dean rose and revolved apprehensively until he faced her, his features remaining shadowed by the twilight, hiding his eyes, yet accentuating his strong, handsome face.

_~What are you doing here?~_

Resentment and mistrust lashed out at her and made her shrink back a little, remembering her qualms about Dean being a possible threat to her own safety in his current state, she nevertheless stood her ground.

_~You know why I am here, Dean. You have to keep fighting. Don't give up. Please.~_

_~No.  
I'm done fighting.~ _

_~Don't say that. You can't just give up! Do you value your own life so little?__  
How is it, that you are more than willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of  
complete strangers like me but if it comes to you, you just walk away.  
Do you honestly think you're not worth the effort?~_

_~You don't know me.  
You don't know me at all, Amy.  
And if you did  
you'd run away as quickly as your pretty legs could carry you.  
'Cos you ain't got no idea what's inside me.  
And trust me, you don't wanna know.~_

_~What?  
What's inside you?  
What's so terrible you built this fortress around it?~_

_~You wouldn't understand.~_

_~Dean, I've seen your worst memories, felt your innermost agony.  
Do you really think I wouldn't understand?  
Or is it that you yourself don't understand?~_

He made a step into the light and she clutched her hand to her mouth, stifling the shriek threatening to burst out. His eyes. Obsidian eyes. Demonic eyes, which she had painfully learned to fear recently.

_~You see!?  
You understand now, why I can't come back?  
Why I can't risk exposing anyone else to the danger of meeting _**me**_?  
Least of all my brother?  
After what I've done, how can I come back like this?  
This is what we do: we hunt demons. If it's evil, we kill it!  
How the hell am I supposed to confront Sam like this?  
He'd have to kill me. And he'd fail at doing it.  
Even if he could kill me, how is he to live with that?  
No, I can't do this to him.  
You wanna know why I am so sure about it?  
Because he is my brother...  
and I am a friggin' demon.~_

Bitterness dripped from his outraged words, his full lips parted in a demonic leer and Amy sensed her determination waver precariously.

_~How...  
how did that happen Dean?  
Is it ... is it real?~_

_~Why do **you **care?  
What's in it for you?  
Wasn't saving your sorry ass enough already?  
Why should I believe in your honest intentions?  
Nobody ever cared for me if it wasn't to their advantage!~_

_~That's not true!  
That's the demon talking. __  
Your mother, Sam and surely your father....  
they all loved you.~_

_~Oh yeah?  
You sure of that, sweetheart?  
'Cos I sure ain't!  
My mom died, when I was a kid.  
She told me angels were watching over me and look where that got me!  
Freakin' angels!  
Talk about lying to your kids.  
And my dad, oh he was a control freak and a real bastard.  
Never so much as a word of affection,  
never even a sign of acknowledgement,  
never.  
**Take care of your little brother, boy!~**_

Dean's voice broke with suppressed emotion, destroying his attempt of a mocking impersonation of his father's deep, commanding growl. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep steadying breath before he continued. Amy watched him, her right hand clutched protectively to her own chest as if to ward off the emotional assaults threatening to break her aching heart.

_~And about Sammy?  
He was always my responsibility,  
as daddy dearest never really cared for us.  
_**I**_ had to do raise him.  
I gave up my own childhood for my baby brother.  
You wanna know how he rewarded me for that?  
He left me.  
Went to college.  
Left me with dad, after all I sacrificed for him.  
Friggin' left me alone...__Like mom.  
Like...  
like dad.~_

Tears welled up in the corners of his opaque eyes; his chest recommenced hitching when he finally fell silent. He just stood there, looking at her, the shell of a broken and hurt man.

Against sanity and reason Amy moved closer and she was relieved when he didn't retreat. Raising her arms to hug him, comfort him, regardless of the fear she felt inside. Offering her love and compassion to him. Dean yielded to her proposal, incapable of restraining his hurt any more. Thus, they stood in a desperate embrace, mirroring the previous one, until his tears finally ebbed away, leaving him to sob dryly.

Amy loosened her firm embrace a fraction and looked at Dean.

_~I care.  
I owe you my life  
and I would gladly give it to save yours.  
As would Sam.~_

Slowly raising his head, Dean searched her gaze. His vulnerability still palpable, he swallowed heavily.

_~You... you would?~_

Pausing briefly, he shrugged and grinned lopsidedly, trying to recover from his out of character behavior.

_~This sharing and caring routine might actually work with the chicks.~_

She mirrored his smile and cocked an eyebrow.

_~So, what's it gonna be Dean?  
You back in the game?~_

_~Wouldn't make much of a difference any more.  
I'm hell-bound anyway.  
I'll be like this again within a few weeks.~_

He shuddered and cleared his throat.

_~But Sam, he needs you.  
He is on the verge of insanity, Dean.  
There is so much you two have to talk about before...  
before you...~_

Incapable of voicing his impending death she fell silent again.

_~If there was a way to go back,  
without taking the demon with me...~_

He breathed deeply and contemplated his options.

_~I don't really get this bitch.  
It's not like a normal possession.  
I can hear it inside of me, but I am still in control.  
Never heard of a thing like that.~_

He shook his head vigorously and suddenly registered Amy's far-away gaze.

_~Amy?  
You still with me?~_

Disgusted by the slight quiver in his hoarse voice, he touched her gently on her forearm to alert her to her surroundings.  
Nothing.

Dean squeezed her arm softly, fearful when she didn't respond immediately.  
However at his touch, her arm, her whole body seemed to melt away in front of his eyes, leaving his hand to grasp at thin air.  
His heart-rate sped up, beating a tattoo inside his chest.

_~What the hell?~_

Panic rose its ugly face again and he yelled.

_~AMY?~_

His scream echoed hollowly from around him and then he felt himself being pulled by a strong force connecting to his navel,  
pulling him upwards, higher and higher.  
Images swirled around him, and eventually his mind shut down at the sudden onslaught to his senses, hurling him into darkness once more.

****

Pain, dull and throbbing, not real agony yet uncomfortable enough to rouse him from his sleepiness. Pain in his throat, his hand and his left shoulder. A sound, annoying, regular, mechanical, coming from his left. He focused on the noise trying to figure out with his bleary brain what it was. When he attempted to turn his head he was stopped by a painful stab in his throat. Something was stuck there, he realized. How the hell was he supposed to breathe with something stuck in his _freakin' windpipe_? Panic flooded his system with a burst of adrenaline and he forced his eyes open.

Desperately trying to breathe against the foreign object he ended up coughing and gagging.

"Dean? Oh my god. Dean, you're awake! Easy tiger, listen to me! There's a tube in your throat, they had to intubate you. Hang on, I'll get help."

Sam's familiar voice helped to hold panic at bay and Dean blinked avidly to clear his blurry vision, longing to see Sam's face.

Clenching his fist against the urge to retch he started to hum internally, resorting to his proven method to calm himself he counted the beats of Zeppelin's _Kashmir_**, **the first song that popped into his mind. _'Good choice, Winchester! Long enough to give Sammy time to find a hot nurse to help you out here!' _

Finally, Dean heard the door fly open again and feet approached his bed. Unable to turn his head toward the new arrival without risking another coughing fit, he closed his watering eyes and focused on the song of his favorite band.

"Mr. Jackson? Dean? Can you hear me? I'm Nathalie. Open your eyes, Dean!"

His eyes. Something about his eyes. His heart-beat quickened distinctly and he heard its electronic echo coming from the heart-monitor to his left.

Sam's worried voice called his name, forcing his attention onto the one person he could never deny. Dean surrendered and opened his eyes slowly, cautiously.

"That's it, Dean. Now, look at me. I'm gonna remove the tube now. I need you to help me with it. It won't be pleasant, you hear me? Once I pull you will feel the urge to cough. Go with it, it'll help the tube get out. I'm gonna count to three. Got me?"

_'Hot chick. Well done, Sammy.'_ Nodding at the nurse's questioning gaze, he wished she would hurry the hell up as he knew the drill perfectly well – and detested it.

"Alright let's get this over with, shall we? One... two... three, cough!"

A sucking sensation followed by a faint pop, an overpowering gagging compulsion and then freedom, a gush of cool air soothing the burning, sore flesh in his windpipe coursed down to his lungs. Dean closed his eyes again and felt exhaustion getting the better of him. Fighting the impending restful sleep he blinked and searched for Sam. There he was. Face tight with apprehension and sorrow, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, dark shadows highlighting the hazel color of the irises. He was pale, too pale. And he had obviously been crying. His nose still a little snotty, he snuffled softly. But he smiled. Relief and happiness deepened his dimples making him look like a small kid about to open a very tasty lollipop after a severe case of the stomach flu.

"I'm here, Dean. Sleep. You need it," his low soft voice soothed the emotional thunderstorm running riot within Dean.

"Sam, my eyes. What about my eyes?"

Dean's voice rasped and his tongue felt too big for his mouth, yet the disturbing thought of his _(obsidian)_ eyes forced him to speak nonetheless.

"What about them Dean? Something wrong? Can you see?"

The sudden panic lacing his baby brother's words coerced Dean to elaborate despite his sore throat.

"Unfortunately, I _can_ see your fugly, gigantic head, jerk! My eyes, dude, they are normal, right?"

Sam contemplated Dean's words for a second as he had heard the despair Dean couldn't quite keep out of them, and then he answered truthfully.

"You look like crap, Dean. But your eyes are as beautiful as ever. So, no problem with the chicks, I figure... Bitch!"

The irony and the attempt at the usual brotherly banter, eased Dean's worries as he knew Sam would never revert to their usual quip if there were something wrong with him. Therefore, he finally closed his eyes, welcoming sweet oblivion, rest and relaxation in its tow.

****

Sam watched his brother intently. He had finally surrendered to Bobby's beseeching attempts to go and grab some sleep after Dean had miraculously regained consciousness.

That had been 24 hours ago of which Sam had slept 18 without waking once. Feeling re-energized and taking the time to relish a long hot shower, Sam had driven back to the hospital to spell Bobby at sitting with Dean. A recognizable swing in his step, his path had led toward Dean's room and he had sped up, when Nathalie had crossed his way and had held him back, sorrow on her face. Feeling a cold hand grip his heart, his mind had raced with possible complications in Dean's health.

"Sam, I need to speak with you. Got a minute?"

Foreboding clouding his mood, he had nodded curtly and had followed her to the nurse's station.

"Sure. Something wrong with Dean?" he had asked, feeling a direct approach was the best.

"No, it's Amy. Sam, she died last night."

Knees wobbling, vision blurring, Sam had clutched the counter for support.

"What? But how's that possible? She was fine when I left her after dinner."

"Honestly, nobody understands it. One minute, she was recovering really fast, the next she developed a high fever and slipped into a coma. She never regained consciousness."

"No... Oh, god.... I'm so sorry.... Did her family arrive in time?" His voice had shaken with barely disguised emotion and he had felt guilt building up inside him. Had he been he responsible for this?

"That's part of the problem. Obviously, she's got no-one, we couldn't find her family..."

Nathalie examined Sam's grief-stricken face closely. This man had endured so much over the last few days. She didn't know how he found the strength to put up with it.

Marveling at the enigma that was Sam, she had continued, carefully choosing her words to avoid adding pressure to his burdened conscience, "The hospital will make the necessary arrangements for her funeral, but I thought about her belongings. I know, how much you liked her and you guys almost sacrificed yourselves trying to save her from the kidnappers. She told me, how Dean nearly died, carrying her to the car. Amy really appreciated what you did for her. I think she would have wanted you to have this."

Pulling the amulet from her pocket, she had smiled sadly.

Sam's ability to speak had left him completely at that. He had nodded again, feeling awkward at his lack of words and Nathalie had passed him the golden pendant.

"Hey, dude. You with me?" Sam's head whirled around at Dean's abrupt query. Dwelling on the most recent events Sam had stood up from his chair and wandered off toward the window while his weak brother had slept tightly, head lolling slightly to his right shoulder.

"Good to see you, man. You done sleeping, princess Samantha?" Yawning widely Dean eyed his brother thoroughly. The snark in Dean's drowsy words dismally failed to achieve its goal as Sam's face remained grave.

"We have to talk, Dean."

Raising an eyebrow, Dean replied, "Thought we were talking already. Must be the coma."

"Zip it, Dean. It's serious."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Sammy. But a coma is a very serious thing."

Displeasure at Sam's unwillingness to follow his lead made Dean twitch inside. He needed to feel happy for a little time longer, just a short space of time. Begging Sam inwardly to shut up about whatever concerned him, he knew he would hear it all sooner or later. He gave in.

"Spill it."

"Amy's dead."

Dean's insides turned to ice and he jerked in response, resulting in pulling at the stitches in his shoulder enhancing the omnipresent throb.

"What? You gotta be kidding me, Sam. That's so not funny!" His voice barely audible, the imminent threat wasn't missed by Sam.

"No kidding. She died last night. Slipped into a coma with a high fever. That sound familiar to you?"

Dean swallowed dryly, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat. Flashes of memories flooded his brain, weakening and tormenting his still sore soul. _I owe you my life and I would gladly give it to save yours. _

"Dean, are you okay? Jeez, are you gonna be sick? You're white as a sheet!"

"'M fine. Just gimme a sec."

"Yeah, sure. Like you ever told the truth about that. You're not fine, Dean. I can see it in your eyes. I always could."

'_My freaking eyes. My black eyes. What the hell is going on here?'_

"I haven't told you everything, yet Dean. Amy has ... had a necklace just like yours."

"Yeah, she showed me. When she... she came into my dream. Sam, you really think there is something supernatural to the thing?"

Suddenly feeling tainted; Dean pulled at his amulet.

"Don't Dean, it's okay. Bobby found out about the link between the two amulets. And I came up with the idea to use it to speak to you, when you were... after you..."

Sam was incapable of continuing, the memory of Dean being resuscitated was still too painful.

Suddenly feeling the urge to get it over with, he continued in a low, exasperated voice, "Amy told me, she had found out about an incantation. A prayer to the god Utu. He was the reputed Savior of people suffering injustice. Bobby agreed on that and he said something about freeing people from the demon's grasp. So, we figured, we use it on you. To save you. The infection in your blood was caused by a virus, a demonic virus. The demon's grasp. And Amy volunteered. I never imagined she would... die." ..._two lives are one, living off each other's sacrifice_...

Dean had remained silent during Sam's account but now, he exploded.

"What did I tell you about meddling with this supernatural crap, Sammy? Did you forget about dad? About my friggin' deal? Nothing good comes out of it! Dammit!"

"Dean, you almost died." Sam kept his gaze averted, attempting to remain in control.

"I don't care, dammit!" Dean winced at the pain stabbing at his shoulder and sure enough after a quick glance at it, he recognized a small crimson spot blooming on the clean dressings. Pushing his ache to the back of his mind, a reflex rather than a conscious effort, Dean returned his pale green eyes to his brother.

"That's exactly my point, Dean. You _don't_ care about yourself. Do you ever think about that, Dean? Why doesn't your life matter to you? I love you, man. There, you happy? I couldn't bear the thought of your death. So I did what you'd have done, had it been me lying in that bed, needles and tubes puncturing my body!"

Anger abating rapidly, emotional fatigue washing over him, Sam stood, shoulders hunched, face distraught, waiting for the inescapable reprimand.

Struggling for control and reason, Dean began, "Sam. I know why you did it. Believe me, I do. But how are we supposed to live with this. How are you? 'Cos, I'll be gone in a few weeks. But you have to live with that for the rest of your life. How could you do this to yourself?"

"I didn't know."..._two lives are one, living off each other's sacrifice_...

"Don't you dare say that, hell, I taught you better than that." Dean's head fell back to the pillows and he closed his eyes. His own voice screaming inside his mind_ 'No more!' _out of refusal and despair_. _How much more did they have to endure? How many people had to sacrifice themselves before this would be over? Mom, Dad, Amy. They had died because of him. He closed his eyes before the first tear could trickle down his cheek and tried to erase the memories flashing inside of his mind, attempting to push them back behind the ruins of the formerly strong, protective wall. Dean took a deep breath and turned his head away from his brother, wishing to be alone for the first time in his torturous life.

Sam stared out of the window again. His heart had clenched painfully when Dean had referred to the little time they had left together. Keeping secrets from his brother was never a good idea, yet he shoved his right hand inside his pocket and closed it around the other amulet. _The demon's grasp._ It had to work. It had to. Or Amy would have died in vain.

~~~~~*~~~~~  
_~The End~_

* * *

**End Note:** Ok. This is all I got. Thanks for reading. And lemme know if y'all liked it! I hope to see you on my other stories!


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